A Gift for You
by TheSouthernScribe
Summary: The title says it all. A collaborative effort from a few of your favorite authors. All stories have a holiday theme. Final Gift - Of Hypos and Mistletoe by TheSouthernScribe
1. Mardi Gras by TalesFromTheSpockSide

_**Another enchanting entry from the one and TalesFromTheSpockSide…**_

_Gaila and McCoy in …_

_**Mardi Gras : Show Me Yours**_

Mardi Gras.

The most wonderful holiday on Earth.

Of course, there's a more depressing period that follows, called Lent, leading up to another joyful, but very, very chaste, holiday called Easter. But since I'm not Terran and I don't believe in any Terran religions, I can pick and choose my holidays.

"Show us your tits!"

I'm highly amused. Everyone is yelling at the women on the parade floats; they're yelling, "Throw me something!" and the spectators are screaming for a glimpse of mammaries. Another thing I love about humans, especially men: a flash of skin, a rude word, even just the right smell can get them aroused faster than an Orion in heat. I'm Orion, so I should know.

The breasts briefly displayed don't impress me, although there are a few novelties – aliens with more than two, various skin colors and textures. No Orions. We'd get bored with this game so fast and go find somebody with whom to share the aforementioned mammaries.

Grinning to myself, I continue my sashay down Bourbon Street and stop cold across from a bar window.

There he is. Not someone I expected to see here; someone I haven't seen since I left Enterprise for Denobulus Triaxa. Tall, dark, cynical. Leaning on the bar, looking out the plate glass at the paraders. White suit, immaculate white shoes. I almost expect to see a carnation in his lapel.

He hasn't seen me yet and I lurk and stare as he lifts a cigar to his lips and sucks on it, blowing smoke rings. That mouth purses to form the ring and I know exactly where I want him to plant it. His mouth, that is.

I pause on the sidewalk across the street from the bar and wait for a float to go by. His eyes follow it idly, flick back to catch the next one, land on my face.

A beat, then he rises from his stool, drops some cash on the counter and emerges casually from the bar. I stand still, hoping, waiting. I'm already aroused and he's twenty feet away.

He saunters up to me, stands beside me looking at the parade but not seeing it, and says, "You know, green is my favorite color."

"Really." I'm delighted at his light tone, but not sure he really remembers me. It could make all the difference in my evening.

"Same shade as my favorite drink," he muses.

"Mint julep?" I say, and his eyes meet mine.

"Good memory," he replies softly, "Miss Gaila."

"Want to make some more memories?" I ask. It seems like you can say anything at Mardi Gras, no matter how corny, because he just smiles a slow, lazy smile and says, "Lead me to 'em, honey."

*

The last time I saw him I was about to transfer off Enterprise and was making my goodbye rounds. I cornered him in Sickbay and we had some fun on one of the biobeds and I said he could come visit me on Denobulus Triaxa. And here he is, in New Orleans, at Mardi Gras, standing right here smelling of cigar smoke and cologne and linen and making my mouth water.

Apparently I'm having the same effect on him, not that that's unusual, but I even love watching him ogle. His eyes linger on my mouth, move down to my breasts and admire them individually, travel down past my belly to the cleft between my legs, lie there for a bit as if planning, calculating, finally slide down my legs, actually making my toes tingle in anticipation of what he might do to them. His gaze returns to my face and his expression is uncharacteristically fond. I'm so used to him being a curmudgeon.

"Bones," I say softly. "I hope you have a hotel room with a big bed."

"Why's that?" he murmurs. He's going to make me say it.

"Because you're going to take me to your room and lock the door and touch me one time and I'm going to come like I've never come before. And then I'm going to return the favor. Several dozen times."

"Why wait?" He leans in and licks his lips, opens them, flicks his tongue over my mouth, one arm sliding round to support my back. It's so noisy I don't think he can hear my gasp, but he must feel it because his mouth smiles against mine before plunging to thrust and suck mine, not hard but firmly, just what I want to feel in so many other parts of my body. I'm not easy, no matter what you've heard about Orions, but this man - this man has my number and is using it mercilessly.

It's Mardi Gras. I let go and close my eyes and my orgasm washes over me, standing on the street with his tongue fucking mine and his arm holding me up.

***See "Fond farewells"**

**_Remember show the author some love with a review or private message._**


	2. Men in Space by ImAmandaJulius

_Happy Turkey Day to everyone celebrating, enjoy your friends and family. Remember we have so much to be thankful for. This Thanksgiving entry is brought to you by the bright and talent ImAmandaJulius._

_Winona Kirk and Chris Pike in…_

**Men In Space**

There were two things that Winona Kirk liked about her new teaching position at Starfleet: one, the ease of acquiring information about her son, his whereabouts, and his general well-being; and two, having an office down the hall from Christopher Pike.

She had always liked Christopher Pike. He was only a few years older than her and George, and he always looked out for them at Starfleet. He had even come to their wedding. She could remember him smiling up at them from the fourth row on George's side. They hadn't been close friends; but he was definitely an acquaintance that you could rely on.

Anytime.

Like when she landed back on Earth with her new baby son, Jim. Christopher was there to let her soak his shoulder with tears, and then help her decide to move back to Iowa permanently.

But, now that both Jim and Sam had ended up in space, there didn't seem to be much point to sticking around the old farmhouse. She had kept it, sure, but her primary residence was a small townhouse by the bay.

A short knock was placed on her doorframe.

"Winona?" asked Christopher from the hallway. "May I come in?"

Winona rubbed her face and looked up from her PADD. "Of course."

Christopher wheeled himself into the room and smiled. "I just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving before I headed out for the long holiday weekend."

"Thank you, Christopher." Winona glanced over at the holo on her desk: Sam and Jim when they were younger. "You know, this will be the first Thanksgiving in ten years that I haven't seen either of my sons. It's going to be…strange."

And then she noticed Christopher glance down at his wheelchair and then back at her. "My sister is going to her husband's parents' house for Thanksgiving; leaving me to eat an entire turkey myself."

Winona smiled. He certainly was able to keep a positive spin on his more stationary life. "Well now, what a coincidence. I was going to eat an entire pumpkin pie myself."

"That is a shame, Winona."

She paused, glancing at the holo of her kids and then back to Christopher. "Would you like to come over to my place? It would certainly be better than both us spending the day alone."

"I'd love to."

--

Christopher brought the turkey over at 1500 hours and apologized for not cooking it the night before.

Winona glanced at her flour and eggs in a bowl and swore that she wouldn't judge him.

After preparing everything and then either sticking it in the oven or the refrigerator, the two moved into the sitting room. Winona fell into her oversized armchair and Christopher took a place next to her. They quickly started talking about Jim, their days at the academy, whatever. When the topic of George came up, Winona excused herself and then returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"And just why did you never get married, Admiral?" Winona asked after her third glass of wine.

"Mmm," he replied into his wine glass. "I guess the job was my wife. I had eight hundred people to protect – who has time for a wife on top of that?"

She chuckled. "Still, you would've made a good husband."

"Maybe. But George took the best girl in Starfleet."

"You charmer! Are you sure that Jim isn't yours?" she teased.

He laughed and shook his head. "I'm sure."

"Though, you're the first good male influence he's had in his life." She took another sip of wine and sighed. "And I take full responsibility for that. After George died, I didn't want to marry another Starfleet officer. And that was my mistake. It was the men on Earth that disappointed me – not the ones in space. But I settled. I settled for the first man that would look at a woman with two boys that weren't his."

"You know, it is okay for us to make mistakes."

"I know that. And looking back on it, I shouldn't have rushed into another marriage. I just didn't think that space was a good place to raise my children. Maybe it would've been better. Sam wouldn't have run away and Jimmy wouldn't have been a delinquent until the age of 22. Which, by the way, thank you."

Christopher looked surprised. "Thank you for what?"

She smiled and patted his hand. "For giving my son a purpose in life. He's a genius, but up until about three and a half years ago, he didn't have a purpose. No matter what I suggested, he turned it down. So thank you for pushing the right buttons. I mean, a captain at 25? How could a mother be prouder?"

"Well, in turn, then, we should be thanking Jim."

Winona raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Well, without Jim's appointment to captain, I feel like his brilliant mother would not be in the classroom. And think of how many students would be missing out."

She felt herself blush. "Christopher, you're terrible."

"I am not. I'm truthful." He smiled and then swallowed the rest of his wine.

Winona wasn't sure what prompted her to do it, but she leaned over the arm of her chair and placed a soft kiss on Christopher's lips. "I should go check on the turkey," she murmured as she pulled away. "I'll be right back." Then she rose from the chair and made a beeline for the kitchen as her cheeks flushed deeper.

As she pulled the pie from the oven and then checked on the turkey, she felt more justified in her action. He wasn't married, he had helped her son, he was very handsome…and Starfleet men hadn't let her down. Ever.

Before returning to the sitting room, Winona stopped in the bathroom to check on her hair.

--

Neither of them mentioned the kiss, and neither tried to create an encore.

It was back to conversation and subtle flirting that neither would admit to doing.

Once the turkey was finished, they took their seats at the table and mentioned what they were thankful for.

"My sons," Winona said, holding up her glass of wine.

"The entire Kirk family," Christopher replied, clinking his glass against hers.

She smiled and they both served themselves helpings of the turkey, cornbread, stuffing, and whatever else was in reach.

"You know," Winona started as she formed her stuffing into a bowl, "Jim will be home for Christmas. He's bringing Spock along for dinner. Unless you already have plans, I know that he would love to see you."

He nodded. "Sounds great. I don't have plans and I'd hate to miss those two while they were planet-side. I'll make a salad. You know, so Spock doesn't starve."

Winona laughed, but was beginning to think that she had been hasty with that kiss.

That was, until Christopher took her hand under the table and squeezed it gently.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Christopher."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Winona."


	3. A Vulcan Christmas by Aphrodite 420

_I know I said Sunday but my weekend just took a turn for the busy...so you get another update earlier rather than later...in all actuality I'm fighting not to post all of them in one day because I want you to read and see what I've been privy to...I can't say it enough...there are some extremely talented authors on this site...I bow in the presence of greatness...this one made me draw a heart around Amanda and Sarek's name...ENJOY_

_**Brought to you by the wonderfully talented Aphrodite 420**_

_Sarek, Amanda, and Little Spock in:_

_**A Vulcan Christmas**_

"You wish to do _what_?" Sarek asked, his eyebrows rising higher than they ever had before.

"You heard me." Amanda said, smiling.

Sarek had endured plenty of emotional, illogical requests from his wife. But this was, quite possibly, the most illogical of them all.

"Vulcans do not celebrate Christmas, Amanda." Sarek replied sternly. "That is a purely Human holiday."

"I know that- but Spock's half-human! Why can't he explore some of his human half before he becomes too Vulcan?" Amanda folded her arms over her chest.

"He is only one year old, Amanda. He would not even remember it." Sarek said. "I do not understand why you are insisting on this now. We have lived on Vulcan for nearly three years. You have never observed this holiday before. Furthermore- you are not religious. Christmas is a Christian holiday."

"It hasn't really been religious for centuries." Amanda retorted. "And I didn't bother with it before, because it was just the two of us. Now that there's Spock..."

"The presence of a child does not change the situation in a significant way." Sarek said.

"Sarek..." Amanda sighed, and came closer to him, placing her hands on his chest. Over the last five years, he had become accustomed to physical contact with her- and he had also learned to distinguish between merely affectionate gestures, and when she was trying to persuade him into something he would not normally do. This was almost certainly the latter. "My family celebrated Christmas every year- and some of my fondest memories are of opening presents in front of a Christmas tree. I want Spock to have that- at _least_ this once, for _my_ memories if not for his. He's already becoming detached from his emotions- I want to enjoy what little bit of time I have left before he stops emoting completely."

Sarek eyed his wife. He knew from the melds that they occasionally shared just how much it pained her that Spock, even at the tender age of one year, was already being conditioned for his_kya'shin_- the training of thought over emotion. There had been several uncomfortable disagreements between them when she had discovered that he had every intention of Spock binding his emotions. He did not understand why she had become so upset- it should have been obvious from the very beginning that Spock would adhere to his Vulcan roots.

But it _did_ cause her pain. Perhaps only because soon, she would once more be the only emotional being left in their home. Even now, Spock never laughed or cried any more, and rarely smiled.

Yet there was still no logical reason to celebrate such a pagan holiday.

"Amanda, I am aware of the fact that you are trying to unfairly persuade me." he said, stepping out of her reach. "It will not work."

Her eyes were flashing now. She placed her hands on her hips. He sensed a disagreement about to take place, and prepared himself for her outburst of emotion.

"Sarek, I'm not allowed to have a say in any other aspect of Spock's life. I should at _least_ be able to celebrate Christmas with him! Just one time! And don't worry- it won't ruin what progress has been made with his _kya'shin_!"

"His_kya'shin_ is not the issue here, Amanda." he replied calmly, folding his hands before him.

"Then what is? I don't see why you won't allow me this one, tiny thing! All I want us to do is exchange a few gifts, and maybe have a nice dinner!"

"I understand your logic in exchanging gifts for anniversaries or your day of birth, Amanda- but I do not in this case."

Her lips were pressed together in a thin line now, and her eyes were narrowed in fury. A human would have been afraid. Perhaps even _he_ was.

"The problem is that you want to have a full-blooded Vulcan son. But Spock's not a full-blooded Vulcan! You can't just completely disregard his human heritage!"

"I have nothing but the utmost respect for his human blood." Sarek replied evenly. "It is the illogical notion of celebrating an unimportant holiday that I disagree with."

Amanda glared at him.

"Fine. Just forget I said anything about this." Amanda hissed. "I should have known you wouldn't allow it- you never let me do anything too Terran because it _embarrasses_ you."

With that, she spun on her heel and stalked away. Sarek watched her go, and suppressed the urge to sigh.

* * *

It was Christmas day. Amanda woke up early, as she always did, and looked over- as usual, Sarek was already gone. She slid to the edge of the bed and stood, reaching for her thin, light blue silk robe. Cinching it around her slim waist, she made her way out into the corridor and down to the nursery.

She had not mentioned Christmas again, but it had been evident that tension was in the air. When Sarek asked her a question, she gave him terse answers- and other than that, she had hardly spoken to him in the last week. She knew she wasn't being terribly mature about the situation, but she was still furious. Would it_ really_ have been asking too much of him to allow her to celebrate Christmas with her son, who she was losing more and more by the day?

She supposed she could have done it anyway, without his approval- but she hated to do that to him. She would have felt guilty, and would not have been able to enjoy it as much.

"Hello, my handsome little boy." Amanda cooed as she entered the nursery to find Spock already awake, playing with one of his Vulcan mind-training toys on the floor. He looked up at her, large brown eyes almost doleful. She sighed as she picked him up, resting him on one hip. Spock always knew when his parents were having 'disagreements'. She probably unintentionally transmitted her negative emotions into him. She kissed him on the top of his head, and then smoothed his soft black hair down, before tickling his pointed ears. He didn't laugh, of course- he never laughed any more- but he smiled and squirmed in her arms.

"And Vulcans say they're not ticklish." she crooned. "Your father's ears are ticklish too. They should broadcast that all over the galaxy. Daddy says that you'll probably marry a Vulcan woman someday, but I hold firmly to the belief that you'll end up with a human. And if you do, I'm going to tell her your little secret."

He scrunched up his face and shook his head. One thing about his Vulcan half was that it allowed him to learn much faster than human children- he understood both English and Vulcan, although he did not speak often. He probably knew more than he let on, however. She tickled his ears again, and laughed as he squirmed and made a frustrated sound.

"Let's go find your father." she said, adjusting him in her arms as she made her way out into the corridor again.

Usually, by the time she woke up Sarek had already finished with his morning meditation and exercise, and was waiting for her in the dining room to have breakfast. But when she looked in, she found that the dining room was empty. She frowned- that was strange. The dishes that usually waited on the table weren't there, either- and neither was T'Shan, or any other servants.

"Sarek?" she called, walking toward the living room. The pneumatic door slid open as she approached, and when she entered the room she stared at the scene before her, standing stock-still.

Sarek was there- seated in his chair. The coffee table before him held their breakfast- sliced fruit for her and plomeek soup for him and Spock. The fact that he never allowed them to eat anywhere but in the dining room was only the half of it.

Behind him, in the corner, was a tree. An actual _pine_ tree- it wouldn't last long in the heat of Vulcan, of course. And it was decorated with lights and shining silver and gold orbs. Underneath the tree were a few presents neatly wrapped in gold paper.

"_Sarek_?" she asked, turning to stare at her husband. "What is this? Did _you_ do this?"

"You expressed a desire to celebrate Christmas." Sarek said, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Did you change your opinion?"

"No...but...this..." she was smiling now as she looked at the tree again. "When did you change your mind? Where is everyone? And where did you get _that_?" she gestured at the tree in the corner. Sarek stood, and went over to her, gently taking Spock- who was looking around at the tree curiously- from her, and then settling him down into a chair.

"I 'changed my mind' when it became apparent how much you desired this. I have dismissed the servants for the day." he replied before turning back to her. "The conifer arrived this morning, and I rose earlier than I usually do to 'decorate' it, and I purchased the gifts yesterday. I researched Christmas customs after our disagreement last week."

"Just like when you researched dating after we first met?" she was smiling happily at him.

"I find that when it concerns you, research is necessary." Sarek replied. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest. After a few seconds, he reciprocated- even now, years later, he still had difficulties showing affection.

"Why did you do this?" she whispered, looking at the tree, still unable to stop herself from smiling.

"I know how much the situation with our son hurts you. If this appeases you, then so be it. It is a small thing, after all- and no one is here to witness it."

She laughed softly against him before pulling away to look up at him.

"This is already the best Christmas ever." she said. "Thank you so much, Sarek."

"The proper phraseology from my research is 'Merry Christmas'. However, I do not understand how stating a holiday as 'merry' is supposed to make the recipient of the words have a merry holiday." Sarek said. Amanda pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

"Just say the words, Sarek." she said. His eyebrows rose.

"Merry Christmas, my _adun'a_." he said.

"Merry Christmas, my _adun_." she replied. She pulled him down to her by the collar of his vest, and kissed him, smiling against his lips as he returned it. From behind them, they heard a noise that they had not heard in a great while, and they pulled away in surprise to look at Spock. He was sitting up on the chair his father had placed him in, and was clapping his hands together- _laughing_. His brown eyes were bright as he chuckled at his parents. If it weren't for his ears and arched eyebrows, he could have passed as human.

It really _was _the best Christmas she ever had.

* * *

**Again, please show the author love with a review. This was a special gift for you from them...let them know you appreciate their efforts.**


	4. Federation Day by Hairspray Fashionista

_**Please give a warm thank you to Hairspray Fashionista for your next feature…**_

_Jim Kirk and Nyota Uhura in…_

_**Federation Day**_

Romance was not James Tiberius Kirk's strong suit. Seduction? Yes. Romance? Well, he put in a good effort, but he never really could understand the subtle differences between the two. So, when Nyota Uhura arrived in their quarters that night she was surprised to find the light dimmed and the scent of an amazing cologne on the air.

"James?" She never called him Jim. She thought James just sounded sexier and since no one, including his mother, called him James she felt like it was almost her little pet name for him.

"Yeah Babe?" He called from somewhere in the bedroom.

She glanced around the room and her eyes settled on a beautiful arrangement of red flowers near the dining area. She moved to it and noticed blooms from all over the galaxy.

"Do you like them?" Neither his voice, nor sudden presence immediately behind her startled Nyota. If there was anything you had to be prepared for with James T. Kirk it was surprises.

"They're beautiful, but what are they for?" She turned to look at him as he moved closer to her.

"Don't tell me you forgot? It's our anniversary." He shot her a look of consternation as she furrowed her brow in confusion.

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't"

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't!"

"Okay, this is getting nowhere and it is our anniversary."

She sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. "No, our anniversary is not for another three months."

"Which anniversary?"

"The anniversary of when we got married." She growled at him.

"Oh, that's not the anniversary I'm talking about." He shrugged as he moved back towards the bedroom.

"What anniversary are you talking about?" She stalked behind him pausing to remove her boots and put them in the closet.

"You really don't know what today is?" He sat on the bed and fixed her with the gaze he usually reserved for a crew member that had done something exceedingly ignorant.

"Federation Day! How could I forget that?!? Why didn't we have a party on the ship?"

"We wanted to, but being so close to the neutral zone command didn't want us to be in a position where we were so vulnerable, so we had no onboard festivities." He groaned as she climbed behind him on the ship and began to massage his shoulders. Being the Captain's wife had perks, but it also came with a downside, especially with Kirk.

Kirk had a tendency to carry everything with him. Every incident with every crew person. He tried to stay up to date on the most important details of the crew and he also felt personally responsible for every failing. Nyota was worried he was going to work himself into an early grave, but none of her concern stopped him so she tried to support him as best she could.

"Well, it was lovely for you to get me a vase full of red flowers for Federation Day, but it wasn't necessary and maybe a little over the top." She kissed the back of his neck and he leaned into her.

"Are you kidding? Federation Day is my favorite day of the year."

"Seriously? Federation Day? I mean, I know we work for Star Fleet, but..." She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah, but I met you on Federation Day. In that bar in Iowa? I was drunk and then there you were, trying to get drunk, wearing the most awesomely short, red skirt I'd ever had the pleasure of seeing and easily dismissing me. I was crazy about you. You know my dad followed my mom into Star Fleet? Why not follow you?" He turned to look at her when her hands suddenly stilled on his shoulders. She was looking at him oddly and for a moment he thought he might be in trouble. It wouldn't have been the first time. Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and pulled him back on the bed with her.

"Whoa! Whoa! Should you be so forceful...I mean, in your condition?"

Rolling her eyes playfully she kissed him softly. "I'm pregnant, not injured. Besides, to be your kid, he's gotta be rough and tumble...and handsome."

He palmed the gentle roundness of her abdomen. "So...."

"So?"

He smiled at her. "Federation Day?"

"Oh, that? Best holiday by far." She grinned back.


	5. Birthday Presents by Vulcan Hybrid

Much love and appreciation to Vulcan Hybrid for the following contribution, you know the deal, read, review, and love on the author…

_Leonard McCoy and Christine Chapel in…_

**Birthday Presents**

"_Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at it destination full of hope."_

…

He hated what the day meant, and what it signified to him. Bothering to celebrate another birthday was like admitting to getting older, and no one wanted to admit to that. Thirty four was nothing to get excited over. He had already found his first grey hair this morning after he woke up, right before he started his shift. And he had to be careful in his movements this morning so he didn't wake Christine because if woke her, she would remember it was his birthday and want to do something about it.

But she probably remembered anyway, and trying not to wake her this morning was a moot point. By now, she knew everything about him, just as he knew everything there was to know about her. Two years of marriage allowed for this. Bones loved his wife, he really did, but he also knew of her desire to celebrate important days – like his birthday, for example. And if she didn't, others on the ship would. He wanted to remind them, if they asked, that he didn't want to celebrate. He just wanted to go about doing his job for the day and not focus on the significance of the day.

And so far, no one had come up to him and wished him a happy birthday. In fact, the day had been relatively quiet thus far, with the occasional exception of some idiot redshirt getting himself killed. That was so routine that he hardly bothered giving a shit.

Somewhere in between going over a few pulmonary reports and restocking hyposprays, Bones plucked another grey hair from his head. In doing so, he rolled his eyes and groaned. He was thirty four, not fifty! He should not he graying so soon in his life, but figured it must have something to do with putting up with Kirk and Spock so much.

Coming off from the turbo lift, Christine McCoy took a step into the sickbay then lifted her right hand to toss her blonde hair over her shoulders. It had grown considerably in the last few years and she had been neglecting getting it trimmed. Somehow the constant demands of a career in Starfleet took away from a haircut. Most of the time, she just pulled it up and out of her face so it didn't become an issue.

She looks around for her husband, because usually he is rushing between biobeds, but most of them are empty. She takes this as a good thing because it meant that no one was injured badly enough to require a trip down here.

Christine finds him in his office, buried in a small mountain of paperwork. It is easier when they are scheduled on the same shift because then they got a chance to see each other aside from minutes before going to bed. He doesn't look up when she walks in, but she doesn't seem too upset by this. She knows he is a busy man, so maybe disturbing him right now would not be the best choice she ever made.

She rubs the fingers of her left hand over her wedding ring. White gold with her birth stone in the middle surrounded by tiny, individual diamonds. Hard to believe she was actually married to him, considering how they started out. Hell, they hated each other. She always called him an asshole and he always called her a bitch. Sometimes he would put a spin on it and call her a 'fucking bitch'.

Dropping her left hand, Christine walks up behind her husband and slowly coaxes her hands down the center of his chest. "Happy birthday," she whispers into his ear.

His response is instant. "Sh." He takes her wrists and removes her hands from his chest then pushes out from his chair and walks quickly to the front of the room. Bones shuts the door then turns and looks back at her. "No one else knows it's my birthday and I wanna keep it that way."

"Why?" She frowns. "It's not like turning thirty four is such a huge deal. Well, maybe for you it is, but it shouldn't be."

"I'm not thirty four. I'm twenty four."

"Yeah, that would put me at fourteen and that's too creepy to think about." Christine walks over to him and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Relax Leo. You're not old."

"Oh really? I pulled out two gray hairs this morning. Face it. I'm old."

"Well, you know what they say about getting old."

"No. I don't. Please let it be good."

Christine smirks. "Older guys have more experience." She leans in and presses their lips together. As she does so, her hands move slowly down his chest.

He responds to her kiss with an equal amount of tenderness and love before he leans his head back and their eyes lock. "Who told you this? Jim?"

"Surprisingly, no. Sarek."

"Spock's father?" Bones blinks, taken aback by his wife's confession. "I think it would have been easier on my sanity if you told me it was Jim."

"As if you had any sanity to begin with."

"Good point but still. That's not exactly something I wanna think about."

She chuckles. "Okay well I promise not to bring it up again."

Bones combs his fingers through her blonde hair then cups her jaw and brings his mouth down to meet her lips. He knows they don't always have off time to spend together but he never misses a chance to express how much she means to him.

She steps into his body for just a minute and moans softly against his lips. This gives him an idea but he restrains himself because he is still working and he doesn't wish to get them in trouble.

When they do separate, their eyes are locked and they smile warmly at each other. She knows that she doesn't have issues keeping her marriage together, unlike most Starfleet couples, because they always communicate. They always find time to work on whatever issues that may arise in their marriage. Relationships are complicated, but Bones and Christine both work hard on theirs to make it work well.

His thumb brushes over her cheek. "I have to get back to work."

"Alright." Christine leans in and kisses him once more. "Listen, I know you don't wanna celebrate today or anything but Jim said he wanted to have a party for you later. What should I tell him?"

"Tell him I'm flattered but I'm just gonna finish up my shift and call it a night." He kisses her again before stepping back. "I'll see you later. Enjoy you day off, Mrs. McCoy."

That name still has a lovely ring to it. Christine believes she will never get over hearing how it sounds, especially with the way he says it. The name just rolls off his tongue so easily.

Once he has returned to his desk, Christine turns away and walks out to leave him be. She knows he needs his concentration when it comes to his worst, even if she is a welcomed distraction. She leaves, presumably to explain to Jim her husband's reasons for not wanting the party that the captain initial insisted upon having.

The turbo lift doors hiss open and she steps in. As the doors close, Christine lifts a hand to the necklace that dangled around her neck. Bones had given it to her first their second wedding anniversary.

The more she thought about her husband's wishes for a quiet birthday, the more she contemplated the surprise she had for him.

…

Later that night, Christine had gone through the trouble of lighting candles she had borrowed from Nyota. It was clear, in her haste to get everything lit, that she was anticipating her husband's return. His shift would end soon and he would seek out their quarters in order to shower off the smell of blood and the invisible feeling of death from his body.

Christine, however, had other plans for him. She would need his full attention because, despite his wish not to celebrate his birthday, she did have a gift for him. One she hoped he would like. She could not exactly return what she had in mind to give him.

To say she was nervous about it would be a gradual understatement. Terrified would be a better term to use. But she had practiced exactly what she would say and exactly how she would deliver it.

As she finishes lighting the last of the few candles, the door hisses open. She straightens and turns from the bedroom. Christine steps out into the living room as her husband steps inside and the door hisses closed behind him.

Bones stops, and looks around. The lighting in the room is dim, romantically dim – practically non-existent. He looks around at the candles and notes the smell they give off. Amongst the candles and dim lighting, he sees his wife standing by the couch, already dressed for bed. She is wearing a silky blue négligée she recently purchased during their last shore leave.

He looks surprised, and confused, but steps forward to address her. "Chris," he begins. "What's all this for?" He remembers telling her that he did not want to celebrate his birthday but he cannot fault her for her attempts.

"I know you said you're birthday wasn't worth celebrating but," she cut herself off as her right hand sweeps forward and grabs a disk from the side desk. "I have a surprise for you that I think you'll enjoy."

"Does it have anything to do with what you're wearing? Because I have to say, I'm liking this surprise."

"No." Christine shook her head then takes him by the hand and leads him to the couch. "Sit down. I have to show you something." She shows him the holo disk in her hand.

Bones seats himself on the couch. "Chris, did you get me porn? Because if you did, I will love you forever."

"No," she answers, though shoots him a wide smirk. "Just watch."

The doctor settled down in the couch as his wife slipped the holo disk into a small player mounted to the wall. A display screen shot up. She returned to the couch and curled up beside him just as the image from the disk came on the display screen.

As the image settled, Bones' heart began beating steadily, abet slightly quickly. The person was no more than eleven or so years old. Her dark brown hair curled over her small shoulders and the gleam in her young eyes mirrored those Leonard McCoy held in his.

The last time they had any contact was two years ago at his wedding to Christine. His career has taken him away from his daughter so contact had been lost – until now.

He wanted to instantly hold his wife against him, and ask her how she managed to get hold of their daughter. She looks over to him and notices tears in his eyes. This is not the first time she has seen this. The last time her husband had cried, Jim had pronounced them husband and wife.

"_Happy birthday, daddy!_" Joanna begins. "_I know you don't like celebrating your birthday because you think you're getting old but everyone should celebrate their birthday_." She pauses to smile. "_I'm starting sixth grade this year…_"

Bones glances to his left to see his wife looking back at him. They share a smile. He wants, now, to tell her how much he loves her just for getting in contact with Joanna. Instead, he glances back to the display screen.

"…_I miss you. I can't wait to see you again, daddy_." Then there is a moment where she appears more than just a bit pleased. "_I'm looking forward to being a big sister. I think, if it's a boy, you and mommy should name him Connor. It's a good Irish name. And if mommy has a girl, you should name her Valerie. My best friend's name is Valerie. Love you daddy_." She blows a kiss shortly before the disk ends.

Silence has befallen them. The only sound heard was soft, steady breathing Bones was trying so desperately to uphold.

As a circle of vanilla with brown sugar curled around his head like a wreath, Bones slowly turned his head to gaze upon the face of his young wife. She is smiling, waiting patiently for him to say something. He doesn't know what to say to her. The holo disk from Joanna had been more than enough of a surprise for him but now there was something else and a strange, new feeling over took him.

As his heart rate accelerated, Bones adopted a wide smile on his lips. Christine soon mimicked this smile and a single thought moved between them.

The hands of a gentle surgeon come to gently touch her belly and his eyes fill with a new set of wet, misty tears. Her right hand moves over her husband's bands and she holds them against her abdomen.

"We are having a baby?" He asks her, his voice filled with emotion.

Christine nods. "Happy birthday, Leo."

He knows it is too soon to feel his baby moving in his wife's belly, and he would not be able to detect a heartbeat, but he is ecstatic none the less.

Bones lifts his head and for a beat, revels in the knowledge of being a father again. He worried, with Joanna, that raising her on a starship, along at least, was a problem for her development but raising a child with two parents present would be easier.

He leaned in until their lips met and he lifts a hand to cup the side of her jaw. He pours into the kiss all of the love and admiration he has ever felt for his wife, even before their marriage. He knows he loves her, and this proves it. This is the best birthday present he has ever received.


	6. Traditions by TheSouthernScribe

_**The lovely me...brings you the next gift in the series...enjoy**_

_George and Winona Kirk in…_

_**Traditions**_

George Kirk loved holidays.

Easter was for biting the ears off of bunnies, chocolate or marshmallow, no variety was safe in his presence. It was also for enjoying his mother's brown sugar glazed ham and potato salad that came out green, because she added a truckload of scallions to the ancient family recipe. His stomach would growl just thinking about a plate of her home cooking spilling over and dripping down his fingers.

Memorial Day was for barbecue. His dad's whiskey marinated ribs, hamburgers, hot dogs, and old fashioned cans of beer opening, being drained, and finally smashed against his forehead.

Fourth of July was for more barbecue and fireworks. The ladies loved the fireworks. There was nothing like getting lucky on his mother's red and white picnic blanket under a sky decorated in red, blue, green, and purple. As an added bonus, when an extremely large display of fireworks went off, Winona would also hold on to George tighter, refusing to let go, shivering, shaking, and eventually kissing his lips.

Nothing, absolutely nothing compared to when the weather turned and the nights came earlier bringing crispness to the air. The leaves were an alluring shades of orange, red, and yellow. Lining the walkways, making it almost a crime to rake them and remove their beauty from the ground. It was during one of these fall days that he took Winona home to visit his parents. It was two days before Halloween and the annual Kirk barn dance.

Winnie had jumped on his back that night when he took her through the haunted corn maze. She hated the scarecrows and when his cousin jumped out with an old chainsaw blaring and slicing stalks in the field, fight or flight took over, and the woman was perfectly happy to run the hell out of the maze on her boyfriend's back.

The hayride he carried her on later proved to be more her speed, the night ended with George having pieces of hay in delicate cracks and crevices that would be hard to explain on his next visit to the infirmary. Still he wouldn't trade the pain, that night he'd seen Winnie's eyes lit by the light of a bonfire. Her smile was huge and her laugh deep and genuine.

They spent Thanksgiving with her parents. The admiral still had it out for George and his wife prepared duck instead of turkey. He masked his disappointment and enjoyed the remainder of his visit because finally, her parents decided to accept him.

The scent of sweet potato pie greeted him when he returned to the dorm that evening and he didn't care that his roommate had eaten a slice of the gift sent to him by his mom. It was great just to have a little piece of home.

Favorite holiday status was reserved for Christmas. From the first time he saw his father sneak into the house wearing a Santa suit that was three sizes too big, to drop off his bike when he was five, no other day would ever compare. Helping his mother shape cookies, choosing a fresh tree with his dad, and watching the birth of his first son Sam; Christmas meant the most to him. The list of memories went on and on.

The first night Winnie kissed him in the snow on a visit to the Kirk farm in Iowa.

The night they spent in the brig, because another cadet got a little too frisky with the mistletoe and it was only right that Win, joined in the bar room brawl when it became obvious that George was losing the fight. That woman had a killer left hook.

Most recently Sam's birth, that night had found George full of fear, they were stranded on a transport, without power or medical personnel. Winnie was in pain and stressed due to the impending labor and fear that accompanied the inexperience. Their son was born, with the help of his father and an Andorian woman who just couldn't stand to see his wife shed another tear.

The memory filled him with fear all over again, the uncertainty of the moment. The threat that possibly his wife and child wouldn't make it. He watched as Winnie placed the last of Sam's presents under the tree. She was stroking her stomach. He had watched the signs for the last two weeks; tears at the drop of a hat, extended naps, his wife was scared to tell him, another Kirk was on the way.

When George finished the last wheel of Sam's tricycle and rolled it under the tree. He paused before straightening up completely and placed a simple kiss on his wife's still flattened belly.

"Here's hoping for a girl as pretty as her mother."

Tears filled Winnie's eyes, "I didn't know how to tell you."

"Just say Merry Christmas."

Husband and wife danced quietly to the music that played in their hearts, unaware that a pair of young eyes, watched in hushed anticipation of what the morning would hold.

It was the same story, Winona told her boys every Christmas Eve. She pulled out the old fashioned scrapbook she had put together shortly before George's assignment to the Kelvin. She had left it with Sam while he stayed in Iowa during the deployment.

There was a picture of George tearing into a hollow chocolate bunny and several off world cadets looked on in terror. An entire page had been dedicated to the spread his mother prepared the last Easter he spent at home.

She flipped the page and Sam laughed out loud at the sight of his father's face covered in barbecue sauce. "He looks like me when I eat spaghetti." Winona held on to the sound of Sam's lisp in her ears to fight off tears wanting access to her cheeks.

Jim climbed in her lap for the final set of pictures. The last Christmas they spent together. The picture of her belly covered by the thick white sweater is where his little fingers pointed as he cheered and yelled, "Me."

"Yes Jim, that's you."

"Merry Christmas daddy."

The boys echoed in unison, staring at the final picture in the book, George Kirk, at age five, riding off the front porch on his new bike, in the perfect pair of Superman pajamas.


	7. Snowed by Lyricoloratura

_**As always…please show the author love…this story is really beautiful**_

_Hikaru Sulu and Pavel Chekov in…_

"Snowed," a Star Trek 2009 fanfic  
by Lyricoloratura

_In which Sulu's Christmas plans take a very interesting turn, and in which Chekov shows that, in addition to being an ace navigator and all-around whiz kid, he is also quite the Christmas elf…_

"But... that doesn't make any sense – does it?" Hikaru Sulu's handsome face was a study in indignant confusion.

"Well, as much as I am hating to admit it, I think... maybe it sort of does," replied Pavel Chekov, his own face displaying frustration – and perhaps a bit of guilt as well.

"We've made it here to Risa for our first shore leave in – well, who even knows how long anymore – and since it's coming up on Christmas on Earth, shore leave is being limited to crew members who traditionally celebrate the holiday? Face it, Pav, that is just not fucking _fair._"

Chekov sighed, and couldn't bring himself to meet Hikaru's eyes. "I know what you mean, 'Karu – but you know that with the ship so undermanned just now, the Keptin is having to make the choice _somehow_ about who will go and who will stay to take care of the _Enterprise_." He awkwardly clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I know it is not seeming fair – and I wish we could go on leave together – but..."

"...But you and your family have always celebrated Christmas, and I never have. Yeah. I get it." Hikaru swallowed painfully. "I guess I just..."

_I guess I just hoped that maybe we could celebrate this Christmas together,_ he thought – but steadfastly refused to say. This would be their first Christmas since they'd realized that they were so much more than just best friends – but if their new relationship meant so little to Pavel that he was willing to go on shore leave and spend Christmas without him, well... maybe things weren't quite what Hikaru had thought they were.

_Damn it all, anyway._ Damn the outbreak of Rigellian hives that had laid up most of the ship's non-human crew members for the past week – and double-damn the Klingons for having attacked the _Truman _so that a good third of their remaining crew had to go aboard their sister ship and help with emergency repairs and maintenance. The Enterprise was running now with what could at best be called a skeleton crew – and they were all exhausted.

It just so happened that only those few who could actually prove that their religious beliefs included celebrating the Christmas holidays were going to be allowed to have any kind of a break whatsoever. And if Hikaru had expected Pavel to protest that ruling, or to refuse to abide by it – well, he was setting himself up for disappointment. Because Pavel had reacted to the ruling by packing a bag – and pretty damn quickly, at that.

_Not. Fucking. Fair. _What's more, it hurt – but at the same time, he felt like a selfish asshole to expect Pavel to give up a badly-needed break just because they couldn't share it.

Pavel's eyes were hopeful as he waited for Hikaru to finish his sentence; when it became clear that he wasn't going to, he stepped tentatively into the silence.

"'Karu... is not so bad. We can be having our Christmas... together... later. After all, is just a day on the calendar – you and I can celebrate it anytime we want to." The look on Hikaru's face warned him that he wasn't buying that line of reasoning – not even a little bit.

"Sure, Pav. Whatever you say." Sulu replied too calmly, and turned – too smoothly – to walk out of the adjoining quarters they shared.

"Have a great time – I'll see you in a few days. Meanwhile, it looks as though I have a 16-hour shift ahead of me – so if you'll excuse me..."

Pavel's voice behind him held a hint of panic. "But... but... 'Karu! Wait!" Since they'd begun their relationship, they'd never separated for more than a few hours without at least stealing a brief kiss – would Hikaru let him go for shore leave for four whole days without so much as a hug goodbye?

Hikaru stopped in the doorway, turned. Leveled a stare at Pavel that he barely recognized as belonging to the man who had been his lover for the past three months.

His voice was cold, sarcastic – not like Hikaru's voice at all. "Sorry, Pav – I forgot." But he did not return for a hug, a kiss, or anything else of the sort.

He started walking again, before tossing over his shoulder,

"Merry Christmas."

Pavel waited quietly for a long moment to see if Hikaru would reconsider, would turn around and come back to say some kind of proper good-bye – but no. He listened to the sound of footsteps growing fainter in the corridor.

With a sigh, he returned to his packing – with a truly wicked little grin that he was really rather glad no one else could see.

He had work to do...

Fourteen hours into his sixteen-hour shift, Sulu heard Captain Kirk's voice behind him – with a tone that he'd heard all too often in the past few days, and had learned to really, really hate.

"Sulu, I'm really sorry – honestly I am – but it doesn't look like we'll be getting relief for you for another six hours. I wish I could get us all the hell off this bridge, but… I know you understand."

_Understand? What, is he nuts?_

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" _Shut up, Sulu_, he thought – _shut the fuck up, Sulu – it's just a matter of time before you say something you're going to regret, and you know it…_

"Granted, of course, Lieutenant."

"Well, Captain, I'm just wondering – if we're docked here at Starbase, and pretty much not going anywhere… then, why do we need a full crew component on the bridge? All respect, Captain, it doesn't make sense."

The captain muttered something unintelligible under his breath – Sulu struggled in vain to understand him.

_Because the captain couldn't possibly have said, "I __**told**__ him you'd ask me that" – though that's what it had sounded like…_

"Pardon, sir?"

"Ummm…. Yes, Lieutenant. It doesn't make sense. But it's… new Starfleet regulations, that we have to have a full crew on the bridge at all times in case of a… a potential security breach." With that, he quickly left the bridge – _and how come __**Kirk**__ gets to leave the bridge? That doesn't seem fair…_

Hikaru decided that either his own brain had shut down due to tedium and exhaustion, or the captain had gone over the edge a little bit with all the unforeseen complications of the past few weeks.

_Maybe both… hard to say, honestly._

Twenty-three hours into his sixteen-hour shift, Sulu was considering mutiny as a possible career option. Now it was well and truly Christmas Eve – and if he closed his eyes for a moment against the drag of exhaustion, it was all too easy for him to envision what Pavel would be doing down on Risa during his shore leave.

_And to miss him, dammit..._

Of course, Risa was hardly Hikaru's idea of the ideal spot to spend Christmas – as far as he knew, it had been specifically designed, in its function as a "leisure planet," to be all oceans, beaches, reef and surf. That was great, if you were into that – and Hikaru absolutely was, under the right circumstances.

But for Hikaru, the whole mystique of the Christmas season – further mystified for him because his own family's ancestral tradition was Buddhist, not Christian, and because his father the surgeon and his mother the botanist had steadfastly refused to celebrate any kind of religious holiday at all, just on general scientific principle – was all about the snow. The winter, the sleigh rides, the cocoa – and the snow.

Not that he'd ever actually seen any of those things in his life – well, except the cocoa, of course. Growing up in San Francisco had meant that he'd seen accumulating snow… exactly never. Not once – and he'd never been anywhere in his travels where he could have seen it, either. Which was ironic, considering that one of his favorite places to travel, ever since they'd become best friends at Starfleet Academy, was to visit Chekov's family in Russia. Though they were routinely up to their eyeballs in snowdrifts during the winter – and frequently the spring as well, Hikaru had only ever managed to visit them in the summer – when it most certainly wasn't hot, but when it was decidedly green and not white outdoors.

For now, at least, Hikaru's fantasy Christmas – complete with snow angels, crackling fire in a big stone fireplace, and hot cocoa with marshmallows – would remain just that. A fantasy.

And he'd be spending Christmas without snow, without Pavel…

…_and without so much as a fucking bathroom break, if things keep up like this._

If Hikaru was willing to admit it – and why not, at this point? – his Christmas gift for Pavel had probably been secretly inspired by his whole pointless dream of Christmas in the snow with his favorite Russian.

During their last visit to Chekov's family, Hikaru had been sure to spend a LOT of time with Pavel's grandmother, who was a fiend for knitting, and who always made lots of beautiful hats, scarves, mittens, and many other useful items for her family. With a minimum of badgering, he'd persuaded her to teach him how to knit – and she'd helped Hikaru find some particularly wonderful yarn to sneak back onto the ship with him for Pavel's Christmas surprise.

Carefully wrapped in festive paper, tucked into the back of a drawer where Pavel wouldn't be looking for it on one of his routine holiday-induced snooping missions, was the scarf that Hikaru had painstakingly knitted for him out of soft yarn in a gorgeous shade of blue that Hikaru had found specifically because it matched Pavel's eyes.

_I am,_ he thought, _the most pathetic fucking sap ever._

_And if somebody doesn't hurry up and get me off this damnable bridge, I'm going to fall over and start drooling on the console…_

"Captain?" The ensign who was replacing Uhura at the communications console – Sulu honestly had no clue who it was – called over from her station.

"Yes… Ensign?" _Ha. Captain doesn't know her name either_, Hikaru deduced.

"Captain, we're getting an unusual transmission from the planet – it has a Starfleet communication signature, but right now I can't get a fix on the exact source."

"Nature of the transmission, Ensign?"

"Unknown, sir – just a moment and I'll put it onto speaker so that you can hear it for yourself…"

The sound of static spit across the bridge, resolving itself into the sound of a human voice.

"... to Enterprise. _Enterprise_, do you read? _Enterprise_!"

Though it was hard to tell through the static, that voice sounded familiar.

"_Enterprise_ here. Affirmative – we read." The unnamed ensign's voice was loud and clear.

"Repeat your message, please."

"Chekov to _Enterprise_."

Sulu immediately sat up straighter; any thought of his previous exhaustion – much less any lingering frustration with Pavel – brushed away by a sharp spike of panic. _Chekov? What the hell is Pavel doing calling up on the main channel – and what's wrong? He doesn't sound like himself._

"Chekov to _Enterprise_. Unanticipated situation on-planet – experiencing…"

"_Enterprise_ to Chekov – come in, Ensign Chekov."

Nothing. Kirk strode quickly to the Communications console.

"Chekov? Kirk here – come in, Chekov!"

More static. Then, "Keptin! " Pavel's voice sounded distant, strained. "Keptin, I'm…"

And then the static, and nothing.

_Enough of this_, Sulu thought. He jumped up from the helm, and went to stand beside Kirk.

"Captain, I don't know what the hell is going on down there, but Pavel needs help."

"That's possible, Lieutenant – though he didn't send up a distress call as such. Ensign, try again to get through to Chekov."

"Captain." The whole mutiny idea was sounding more and more appealing – did Kirk honestly not _get_ it? "Can we really take that chance? Who knows what situation Pavel's in the middle of down there?"

Kirk wouldn't meet his eyes, and Sulu panicked again. _What doesn't he want me to know? Is he going to leave Pavel down there – possibly in danger – because of his idiotic crew staffing ratio problems?_

Well, Hikaru wouldn't have it. If the tables were turned and that were him down there, he knew Pavel wouldn't have it, either. They had each others' backs.

"Captain. Request permission to beam down to Risa and investigate Chekov's situation. Say what you want, Captain – he's not going to send up random transmissions on the main channel unless there's _something_ weird going on."

Kirk paused, considering. "Dammit, Sulu – I don't feel right sending you down there alone to investigate a potentially dangerous situation… but I can't spare anybody else to go with you." He paused again, then nodded.

"Go. Ensign –" he turned to the confused girl at the console "—do we still have Chekov's coordinates?"

"Affirmative, sir. He seems to be inside a structure in the …"

"Don't need the details just now, Ensign. Provide the coordinates to the transporter bay. Sulu, get on down there. Let me know what's going on when you arrive. And…"

"Yes sir?"

"Good luck."

Hikaru barely heard him as he tore off toward the turbolift. There was no time to lose.

The place into which he transported, phaser drawn, was unidentifiable – there was complete darkness. As the ensign at communications had said, it seemed to be inside a structure – but where was…

"Chekov? Pavel? Are you in here?" Hikaru's voice was barely above a whisper – if Pavel was in here, he might not be alone, and there was no point drawing unnecessary attention to his own arrival.

"Hikaru – I knew you'd come." Movement in the darkness, then he could feel Pavel's arms wrapped around him.

"What happened? Are you OK? Are you being held here by someone?"

Then… Pavel laughed. Laughed!

"Put down the phaser, 'Karu." Pavel's arms tightened around him, and he nestled his head against Hikaru's shoulder. "I _want_ to be held here by someone…"

Hikaru Sulu did not normally consider himself to be a stupid man. Now, he'd never place himself in the ranks of the ridiculously gifted like Pavel, but he was still smarter than most people.

But this situation had him completely baffled.

"Pavel. What the hell is going on? Has somebody done something to you? Is everything all right?" Pavel's embrace was certainly welcome, but his soft laughter was infuriating – and a little unnerving, as well. "Dammit – tell me what's going on!"

"Oh, 'Karu. I'm so sorry I scared you – I didn't mean to. But it was the only way I could think of to get you down here."

"To get me…_Pavel_." His blood ran cold. "What have you _done_?" More importantly, what would Kirk do, once he found out this was an elaborate ruse on Pavel's part?

_Oh, shit._ The surge of relief he had felt on finding Pavel safe and in one piece was quickly evaporating, as the horrifying array of possible consequences flew through Hikaru's brain.

He felt – the darkness made _seeing_ impossible – Pavel moving away from him. Then he heard the odd sound of a match scratching, and at last he could see Pavel's face now by the flame of a single candle, The sight of that soft, tentative smile, those gorgeous eyes glowing in the golden light, made Hikaru's heart turn over.

No matter how much trouble they were going to be in, and no matter how much Pavel confused him – there was no denying that Hikaru had managed to land the most beautiful man in the galaxy.

"The Keptin knows, Hikaru. He is – how you say – in on it with me." Pavel pleaded with his eyes – and with the look Hikaru had christened his "puppy dog" face. "Don't be mad at me, please – it is your Christmas surprise from me. We have the next four days together, 'Karu – just us."

Pavel's eyes got even bigger in the ensuing silence. "Hikaru? You're not angry with me, are you? Because I didn't –"

Not for the first time, Hikaru determined that the best way to make Pavel stop talking was to give him something better to do with his mouth. Pulling him close again, he took Pavel's soft lips in a devastatingly tender kiss that went on and on, chuckling softly, knowingly, against Pavel's mouth as he felt Pavel's knees buckle just a little. Hikaru never got tired of being able to do that…

After the initial rush of contact had passed, Hikaru realized that whatever Pavel was wearing certainly wasn't standard Starfleet issue. His hands, moving up Pavel's back, were tangled in a soft, slippery material.

Intrigued, Hikaru broke away from the kiss – loving Pavel's tiny sound of indignant disappointment – and took a better look at the man in his arms by the light of the nearby candle.

Then his knees damn near buckled, as well. Pavel was wearing nothing but a brief, silky robe, the black fabric softly lustrous in the dim light. He'd never seen that robe before – and the unexpectedness of finding Pavel dressed in such a way was exhilarating, and unbelievably arousing as well.

The robe was starting to fall open, leaving little to Hikaru's imagination – and making it very clear indeed that Pavel was, um… glad to see him.

His breath caught just a little, and his voice was a bit hoarse when he tried to quip, "So, Pav – are _you_ my Christmas present? 'Cause if you are, I'm loving the wrapping…" He dragged him closer again, devouring Pavel's mouth and relishing the insistent hardness that pressed against his hip as he felt the familiar tightening in his own groin in response.

Pavel pulled his mouth away now – his face flushed and his breathing ragged. "And you, Lieutenant Sulu, are wearing entirely too much for what I have in mind for you." He smiled wickedly, invitingly. "You don't know what you have coming, my friend."

"Oh, yeah? Well, I hope I know _who_ I'll have coming…" Hikaru waggled his eyebrows and leered suggestively, laughing.

Pavel responded by cuffing him halfheartedly along the side of his head. "Shut up, funny man, and take your clothes off before I do it for you."

Pavel obviously had something in mind – and though Hikaru didn't know exactly what it was, he had a feeling he was going to like it.

"Get the clothes off, Sulu – and follow me." He lit another candle, and took it with him through a door that Hikaru hadn't seen previously.

_Well, now – if that's the bedroom, we're definitely taking a step in the right direction…_

Probably not, though – he could hear the sound of running water now. Also a fine idea – anything that involved water and himself naked with Pavel was going to be pretty wonderful. With that thought spurring him on, Hikaru quickly stripped, leaving his uniform in an uncharacteristically jumbled pile on the floor before following Pavel into the adjoining room…

…where possibly the most gorgeous, most outrageously enormous hot tub he'd ever seen was filling with steaming water. His body – the one that had just been on duty for the past 23 hours – almost groaned in approval.

Pavel approached him, holding out a robe identical to his own for him to slip on as well, with a smile on his face that just radiated happiness and affection. It was what Hikaru referred to in his own mind as Pavel's "I love you face" – and oh, he treasured that look.

Although they were wholeheartedly devoted to one another – and really, after all, they both already _knew_, didn't they? – neither of them had ever found the opportunity (_or the nerve?_) to say the actual words. Therefore, each of them found themselves surreptitiously watching the other for the looks, the gestures, the unspoken messages that reassured them that they were loved.

"You have got to be so tired after all that time on the bridge, _da_, 'Karu?" Pavel's voice was soft and warm, and flowed over Hikaru's still-ragged nerves like honey. "So tonight, you will just relax and I will make it all better. And I will not take no for an answer."

Hikaru laughed softly. "You weren't going to get no for an answer, Pav – God, it all sounds amazing." He closed his eyes and let his head drop back on a sigh of complete contentment as Pavel's hands came up to massage the horrible tightness out of his neck and shoulders.

"Come on, Hikaru – I've been filling this tub for hours, and now it's waiting for us. In we go."

Pavel let his robe slip off his shoulders, and Hikaru gasped as Pavel's lithe, gorgeous body was revealed, with the guttering shadows of the candlelight only accentuating the ridges of muscle and sinew. Nobody could imagine how surprisingly beautiful Pavel was without his clothes – and Hikaru was secretly, fiercely glad that he was the only one who knew.

Hikaru reached forward to grab Pavel, pull him close again, inhaling with a soft hiss at the unbelievably hot skin-to-skin contact. _Mine,_ he thought with a possessive little growl, allowing his hands to skim the corded muscles of Pavel's back. _All mine._

"Mmmm…Yes. All yours, Hikaru."

_Well. Maybe that hadn't been a silent thought, after all_. And of course it didn't matter, really. Especially since not only was Pavel all his, but he seemed pretty intent on getting them both into that delicious-looking hot tub – a worthy goal if ever Hikaru had known one.

Some time later – _twenty minutes? An hour? A week and a half?_ -- Hikaru was convinced that he was so relaxed that he might never even be able to move again, much less actually stand up to leave the hot tub. He'd never known that something as mundane as allowing someone else to shampoo your hair could be so… wonderful. And he'd had no idea that Pavel was absolute magic with a bar of soap. The tension, tedium, and frustration of the past day had simply vanished, leaving Hikaru flushed with sleepy warmth and nearly overwhelmed by the feeling of exhausted well-being that surged through him.

The fact that a naked, wet Pavel was draped across him as he relaxed against the side of the tub had nothing whatsoever to do with how good he felt. Of course not…

Then Pavel shifted, and those delicious lips were pressed softly against Hikaru's ear. "Come on, sleepyhead," he whispered. "We have to get you out of the tub before you get all pruny and wrinkled. And besides," his voice was warm with promise. "I am not done with you yet."

Hikaru found himself utterly unable to resist, and went along with the gentle hands that pulled him slowly to a standing position and then out of the tub. Before he had a chance to get chilly, Pavel was there with a huge fluffy towel, drying him off thoroughly before finding the discarded robe and helping Hikaru into it.

With no real knowledge of how he got there – exhaustion really was starting to take its toll – Hikaru found himself in the bedroom with Pavel. And what a bedroom it was; the bed itself was mammoth, with an intricately carved headboard and dark satin sheets that seemed to glow with the light of the fire in the enormous stone fireplace on the other side of the room.

Somewhere in his mind came the sleepy, half-formed thought that he really had no idea where they were on Risa, or what kind of a place they were in. Pavel really had pulled one over on him. And…

"…It's almost Christmas, now, Pav."

"_Almost_ Christmas, Hikaru – but not quite. You will have to wait to open presents in the morning. For now, though –" he gave Hikaru a gentle shove so that he fell, sprawling backwards across the bed "–get comfortable. Think you can manage that?"

Comfortable? This bed was like heaven – especially after the not-one-inch-to-spare bunks provided by Starfleet. He could pretty easily envision spending their entire leave right here, doing all kinds of wonderful things to Pavel. Presents, indeed – who needed presents?

He just wished that his body would stop throwing him such contradictory signals. His brain was pretty close to shutting down entirely – Hikaru could feel himself being dragged into sleep – but his cock was _not_ going along with that program. Not one bit. He groaned in sheer frustration with himself and this whole situation.

Pavel heard that groan, and moved to drape himself across Hikaru yet again. "What's the matter, babe? You all right?"

Automatically, Hikaru felt his arms coming up to surround Pavel and pull him in closer to himself, burying his nose in sweet-smelling, damp golden curls. "Yeah. Fine. Amazing. But, Pav – parts of me can't stay awake, and parts of me –" he moved his hips against Pavel for emphasis – "don't wanna go to sleep."

He wasn't sure what to make of the sweet smile Pavel gave him in response. "Tell you what, 'Karu," he murmured, his voice a rough purr of sensuality. "You let me take care of you tonight – I think I can fix it." His deft, graceful hands began a delightful exploration of Hikaru's body that was managing to relax him even more and to absolutely set him on fire – all at the same time. "You just lie back, let me make you feel good – and maybe I will have my wicked way with you… _da_?"

Hikaru's answering laugh was low and a little unsteady – his entire body seemed to approve wholeheartedly of that scenario. "Absolutely _da_, Pav. I'm all yours – whatever you want."

He heard Pavel's sharply indrawn breath, and the slight shudder as he released it. Obviously, he'd said what Pavel wanted to hear. Hikaru stretched luxuriously, and surrendered himself totally to the soft words, the strong hands, the hot mouth that moved together to make his pulse thunder in his own ears and drive him ever closer to the edge of his own control.

Nothing, nothing made sense anymore – and it didn't need to, as the boundaries between dream and reality stretched and blurred. The one anchor was Pavel – Hikaru knew that Pavel was there, and that he could let go and let Pavel take control as he let his mind shut down and allowed his body to just _feel_, experiencing sensations that threatened to overwhelm him completely. Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, Hikaru registered that whatever Pavel's "wicked way" with him was, it sure wasn't going to take long…

Pavel – Pavel was working with the single-minded intensity that was uniquely his own to make him feel things he'd never imagined… his body was so impossibly hard and _ohmygodsodamnhot_, and then…

… It was all too much; Hikaru's world exploded around him in a blaze of heat and light, with Pavel's name ripped from his throat in a hoarse moan The sound of Pavel's broken cry close to his ear told him that wherever he'd gone, Pavel had come with him, and he smiled to himself as he felt Pavel collapse across him, a warm leg tangled between his own and the curly blond head resting on his chest.

Hikaru felt himself flooded with a wave of contentment and pure happiness.

_Oh, my Pavel; I just love you so much_, he thought.

Then Pavel froze completely – his head snapping up to look at him searchingly – and Hikaru realized that he'd done it again, and spoken his thoughts aloud.

Which was really not a problem, all things considered – because he meant it – meant it with all his heart, and he couldn't have kept those words out of his mind at that very moment if his life had depended on it.

After all this time of obsessively waiting for it to be _just perfect_, it turned out to be so simple, and absolutely the most natural thing in the world just to let it slip like this.

Having finally said the words did, however, mean that Hikaru was going to have to drag himself at least a little bit more toward consciousness – because if nothing else, he wanted to see Pavel's face when he said it again, which in turn meant that he was going to have to open his eyes. He blinked – brought Pavel's stunned face into focus – and smiled up at him with all the love in his heart.

"I love you, Pavel. Probably always have. Definitely always will." Damn, that felt good to say – and the look on Pavel's face was something that he'd never forget, no matter how exhausted and otherwise out of it he was. Pavel's smile –his beautiful blue eyes shining in the firelight – those were memories to store up.

"I love you too, Hikaru. For so long that I don't know when I started – but I know I'll never stop." Pavel's voice caught slightly; his eyes were suspiciously shiny, and Hikaru felt his own eyes stinging as he pulled Pavel back down into a fierce embrace. If they were going to cry, then, dammit, they could do it together – just like everything else.

"Hikaru! Enough sleeping. It's Christmas morning!"

He was being bounced to within an inch of his life by a ridiculously wide-awake and enthusiastic Russian – and responded by burying his head under the pillow.

Which was then unceremoniously yanked from his hands, and used to beat him. _I need to remind myself to kill him later_, Hikaru thought.

"No presents for you if you don't wake up!"

Wow – this was all really happening. It really was Christmas morning – and by the daylight now filtering in through the curtains at the windows, Hikaru could see that the room they were in was part of what looked to be a truly sumptuous suite. Pavel had obviously gone to a lot of expense and trouble – which was pretty much the most wonderful thing ever.

Strike that – _Pavel_ was pretty much the most wonderful thing ever.

"Come on, Hikaru – get up, get dressed. Opening Christmas presents naked is _not_ cool." He stopped, tilted his head in mock consideration. "And here I thought I'd want you doing everything naked. What's the matter with me?"

Hikaru laughed, noting absently that Pavel had managed at some point during the night to put on some pajama pants, and had achieved at least a bit of decency. "All well and good, Pavel – but it's not as though I _packed a bag_ before I came charging down here to rescue you from God knows what."

"Ah, yes – my knight in shining armor." He pressed an affectionate kiss into Hikaru's mussed-up dark hair. "You have so little faith, 'Karu." Pavel reached into a dresser drawer near the bed, and tossed Hikaru his favorite pair of flannel pants. "Everything you're going to need – I brought it. Took me ages to get all your shit together, too." He smiled at him, an odd light in his eyes.

"Come on, Lieutenant Sulu. We have Christmas surprises."

Hikaru rolled out of bed, pulling on his pajama pants, and followed Pavel into the next room.

_Holy shit. _

"Pav – a Christmas tree?"

For indeed, there it was – a real, honest-to-God Christmas tree, with tiny twinkling lights and decorations. There were packages underneath, and two mugs steaming on the table nearby.

"Cocoa? You – you made _cocoa_?" Somehow, after all the other things – little and big – that had happened between them in the past few hours, this was the one that pushed Hikaru over the edge. If he'd been with anybody but Pavel, he'd have been humiliated that this adorable, goofy gesture caused him to burst into tears. Pavel, however, just smiled his sweet smile – _absolutely his "I love you face"_ – and pulled him close.

"You deserve a real Christmas, 'Karu – because _you're_ the best present I could possibly have, and I always want to make you as happy as you make me."

Hikaru's voice was muffled with his face against Pavel's shoulder. "I love you, Pav."

"Love you too, 'Karu. And you can keep saying that as many times as you want." Pavel gently extricated himself from the embrace. "But… presents, _da_?"

_Presents. Shit._ "But, Pavel, I…"

Pavel glared impressively, and stopped him with a warning hand. "Hikaru. I am disappointed – wounded! – by your lack of faith in me. Did I not _tell_ you I packed your stuff? Did you think for _one moment_ I was going to leave _my present_ on the ship?" He shook his head in feigned exasperation. "Seriously. What must you think of me?"

Hikaru plunked down onto a huge, overstuffed leather chair between the fireplace and the tree, then reached out to pick up one of the cups of cocoa.

"I think, Pavel Chekov, that you are horribly sneaky and underhanded – and absolutely perfect. I can't imagine how any of this could be more wonderful, seriously."

Pavel gave him a somewhat enigmatic look. "I think you should wait before you say that to me, Hikaru. Let's just say I'm not done yet – and that's all I'm going to tell you for now."

He reached under the tree, and tossed a package to Hikaru. "For the last time, Mr. Sulu – it's Christmas, and I want to open presents."

They started with the presents from home – which Pavel had very carefully (_devious little bastard_, Hikaru thought) intercepted and hidden away when they had arrived on board the _Enterprise_. Hikaru received books from his own parents, and several music audio recordings from Pavel's parents. Pavel, on the other hand, got a huge box of Ghirardelli chocolate from the Doctors Sulu ("they know my sweet tooth," he'd exclaimed delightedly), and computer gadgetry from Mama and Papa Chekov.

Pavel's grandmother had knitted them both gorgeous sweaters and matching hats – and it didn't escape Hikaru's notice that Pavel's were both made from the same blue yarn she'd sent with him for Pavel's scarf. Pavel had pulled the hat on over his unruly curls – and sure enough, Hikaru felt his heart turn over at how the color accentuated those beautiful blue eyes. The scarf was going to be perfect.

"One of these days, we'll get a chance to wear all this warm stuff – maybe we'll manage to visit your folks in Russia when it's actually snowy, eh?" Meanwhile, Hikaru was getting an idea of how he could put Pavel's Christmas gift to an… interesting, unanticipated use.

Finding the package that he'd wrapped for Pavel, Hikaru rose from his chair to scoop it up and then walked toward the doorway.

"Pavel… I think we'll open this one –" he gestured with his chin toward the bedroom "—in there."

Pavel was plainly confused, but seemed more than willing to go along with this change in plans. "If you say so, Hikaru," he agreed – looking more than a little intrigued as they made their way back to the bedroom.

"Now," Hikaru instructed, "you sit." Obligingly, Pavel sat down cross-legged in the middle of the big bed, and waited with a small, expectant smile.

"This one, Pavel, is for you to unwrap – especially from me. Merry Christmas." He handed the squishy package over, and watched with glowing eyes as Pavel hesitated for just the barest moment before tearing into the bright paper.

Pavel was clearly delighted. "You didn't – you _made_ this, didn't you? Oh, my God, 'Karu – you knitted me a scarf! When in the world did you find the time to do that without me finding out? I can't believe it! And it's perfect – it's _gorgeous_! I love it!" He tossed it around his neck then, and leaned forward to throw his arms around Hikaru in an exuberant embrace. Hikaru decided on the spot that this particular fashion statement – Pavel, wearing nothing but pajama pants and a soft knitted scarf draped over his bare shoulders – was probably the hottest damn thing he'd ever seen.

Pavel was looking at him with sudden concern clouding his eyes. "But, 'Karu – I didn't bring anything in for you to unwrap. I'll just –" He was surprised into silence by Hikaru's strong hand closing around his wrist as he started to get up off the bed.

"No. Stay right here. And…" Hikaru reached forward to slip the scarf off from around Pavel's neck, "… I'll take that, thank you."

"But, what are you going to... oh."

Pavel went silent again as Hikaru took both of his wrists then and began, gently but very determinedly, to wrap the scarf securely around them. He gave Pavel a look that was simultaneously request and demand – and Hikaru knew right away from Pavel's suddenly flushed cheeks and quickened breathing that he was going to get his way.

Never breaking eye contact, Hikaru took the free ends of the scarf and tied them firmly to the middle of the huge headboard, guiding Pavel down onto his back as he did so.

_Your turn_, he thought, remembering last night's agonizing pleasure. Now it would be Pavel who would lie still, and allow him his "wicked way" with the beautiful, graceful body stretched out so irresistibly in front of him, arms extended over his head and tied to the headboard with his new Christmas scarf.

Smiling knowingly into Pavel's eyes, Hikaru slid his hands gently down the gloriously silky skin of Pavel's sides and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his flannel pants – which were already betraying Pavel's… enthusiastic approval of the unexpected turn of events. He followed his hands with his lips – dragging hot, open-mouth kisses down the planes and valleys of Pavel's chest and stomach, and reveling in the unbelievably arousing, completely incoherent little sounds he drew from his lover – his love – as a result.

The last articulate words from either of them for some time came from Hikaru as he made quick work of tossing Pavel's pants to the floor:

"See? You did bring me something to unwrap, after all…"

There was no telling how much later it was when Hikaru found himself slowly coming awake again; the overpowering sensations were those of warmth and comfort, and the wonderful, familiar feeling of being pinned to the bed by Pavel's unconscious dead weight on top of him. Pav was still sound asleep — snoring lightly, and drooling a little onto Hikaru's shoulder – and it occurred to him for the first time that while he had been stuck doing a marathon shift on the bridge of the _Enterprise_, Pavel had to have been working very hard as well to get all the details of this elaborate surprise to fall into place.

A surge of affection and gratitude constricted his throat and stung behind his eyelids, and Hikaru gently tightened his arms around this wonderful, sentimental, brilliant idiot of a man to whom he'd so totally given his heart. Pavel snuggled closer still in his sleep, softly sighing his approval before relaxing totally again.

_There couldn't possibly be a better way to spend Christmas than this_, Hikaru mused, contentedly allowing himself to drift in and out of a light doze as he listened to Pavel's slow, even breathing.

It was a while longer before Pavel finally woke as well – but unlike Hikaru, Pavel didn't do "drifting" – he was either sound asleep or wide awake, with very little in between. Hikaru opened his eyes as Pavel rolled away from him, stretching luxuriously.

"Pav – I never asked you; how the heck did you get Kirk to agree to let me go along with you?"

Pavel smiled gleefully over at him, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, Hikaru – you truly have no idea how sneaky I can be, do you?" He went on to explain how his idea had begun to develop when he found out that the _Enterprise_ would be docking near Risa, and how he'd managed to convince the captain to go along with his convoluted plan.

The idea of shore leave being offered only to those who celebrated Christmas had, it turned out, been entirely Pavel's – and the ruse was carried out solely so that he could get off the ship with enough advance time to arrange the necessary surprises for Hikaru's benefit.

"So, you're saying…"

"'Karu – there's _nobody_ left on the _Enterprise_ right now. The ship's in dry dock at the Starbase – you know as well as I do that they don't need a crew. There were only maybe a dozen people on board with you anyway, and they all took off for their own shore leaves about five minutes after you were off the ship." Pavel looked just ridiculously pleased with himself. "They're all down here on the planet, somewhere." He leaned down to kiss Hikaru with heart-stopping tenderness. "Just not with us."

"Pavel Andreyevich Chekov, you are a frightening, devious man." Hikaru kissed him in return, equally tenderly. "I am – not for the first time – profoundly relieved that you are on my side."

Pavel found that exceptionally funny – and Hikaru found himself loving Pav's happy, carefree laugh.

"Well, 'Karu… we still have some unfinished business to take care of, don't we? I got my present from you, but -" that wonderful laugh again "— I got a little bit _tied up_, and didn't get a chance to give you your gift. So, you wait here while I got get you your present." He turned and pulled his pajama pants back on again before walking out of the room.

"Want me to bring you some more cocoa?"

"You bet, Pav – no such thing as too much cocoa."

A few minutes later, Pavel reappeared with the cocoa – and marshmallows, of course – along with an oddly-shaped package, rather awkwardly wrapped in festive paper and tied with a big, shiny red ribbon. He placed the cocoa on the night stand next to Hikaru balancing the package carefully as he climbed back onto the bed.

"Now, Hikaru – here is your present from me. And since you got help from home – or at least I'm assuming it was my grandmother who taught you to knit, _da_? – then it is all right that I got help from home as well." He held the package out, with the slightest uncertainty in his smile. "I hope you like it."

"Pav – I can tell you right now, sight unseen, that I love it, OK? If you got it for me, I love it. Now – let's see what it is…" Gently, Hikaru reached over to untie the ribbon, and remove the paper from –

"_Viscum Album!_ Pavel… you didn't! How did you -- you got me mistletoe!" With that, Hikaru Sulu, Botany Geek, came to the fore, as he enthusiastically examined the shiny, dark green foliage and waxy white berries of the little potted plant in his hands.

"Seriously, this is… it's perfect. Perfect." Hikaru could feel the grin stretching across his face. "You had my mom help you with this, didn't you?"

Pavel nodded. "I was trying to think of some kind of plant that would be good for Christmas. First I thought holly would be good, or maybe a poinsettia – but then your mom reminded me of the whole idea behind the mistletoe." He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "I always did like your mom…"

Smiling at Pavel with his heart in his eyes, Hikaru reached down and broke off the tiniest end of one of the stems of mistletoe – then took the little sprig and nestled it into the unruly curls that threatened to spill across Pavel's forehead.

"There – that works. Now, according to tradition, since you're under the mistletoe, I pretty much have to keep kissing you, like, constantly." Leaning forward, he proceeded to do exactly that. "My mom is one hell of a smart woman."

"You get no argument from me, my friend. But…" Pavel pulled away and rolled off the bed.

"One more surprise. Just one. But –" he reached for Hikaru's hand and tugged him off the bed as well "—you have to get up, and get dressed, because we're going out. So… come."

For the first time that entire day, Hikaru felt a little hesitant. Yes, the day had all been perfect – and he knew that whatever Pavel had planned would be wonderful – but honestly, he was loving the illusion of his fantasy Christmas, and it would be shattered as soon as they went out onto the tropical beaches.

_Pavel has gone to so much trouble to make this perfect. And you're going to love whatever he's got planned, Sulu – even if you don't. _

"Okay, Pav – I'm guessing you've packed whatever I'll need, right?" He wasn't even sure he owned a swimsuit – but no doubt Pavel would have taken care of that, as well.

_Frighteningly devious, this Pavel Chekov._ No wonder Hikaru loved him so much.

The frighteningly devious Pavel Chekov had that tentative, uncertain look on his face again – the one that made Hikaru want to kiss him breathless – or, at the very least, to do whatever it took to reassure him.

"Pavel – I know whatever this new surprise is, it'll be fantastic. Do you have any idea – any at all – how happy you've made me? This is the best Christmas I've ever, ever had – and I can't imagine what would make it better. Seriously."

"I guess we'll see, 'Karu – but for now, get dressed." Surprisingly, Pavel tossed him a pair of his jeans and the new sweater Pav's grandmother had knitted – a dark brown as opposed to the soft blue of Pavel's.

"I have to admit something to you, Hikaru," Pavel smiled sheepishly. "I asked my grandmother to make you a sweater to match your eyes. I am a big sap, _da_?" His gaze raked appreciatively over Hikaru in the soft new sweater. "But I'm a _smart_ big sap – because you look gorgeous."

Hikaru was experiencing the now-familiar feeling of being completely baffled – because a sweater and jeans were not going to cut it out on the beach. He didn't even know how to ask Pavel what was going on at this point.

"You know, you're going to hate to hear this, but you are adorable when you're confused." Pavel brushed a quick kiss onto the tip of his nose, and took his hand. "Come to the window, 'Karu – I need to show you something."

Pavel drew the curtains, and for the first time, Hikaru got a glimpse of where they were.

And – oh, my God. There was snow. Piles of it, drifts of it, snow as far as he could see – on the ground, falling from the sky, just… everywhere.

"Snow, Pav? Seriously? How the hell did you manage…"

Pavel laughed delightedly at the shock – and the sheer joy – on Hikaru's face. "For once it wasn't me who managed it, my love. This is the newest resort on Risa – and it's just for people like me and you, who want to be in the snow instead of on the beach. This chalet –" he gestured to the suite around them "—is part of a ski resort – and tomorrow, if you want to, I'll show you how to ski. But for now, we have something else to do. So, let's go get coats, _da_?"

Hikaru was speechless – this was all just far too much for him. So, wordlessly, he followed Pavel to a closet where he'd stowed their winter coats, and from there to the door that led outside.

The snow even smelled amazing – the clean, brilliant whiteness surrounding them was nearly overwhelming. It had never occurred to Hikaru that the snow would create a natural hush in their surroundings – but he loved the unusual quiet, all the same.

Then that quiet was broken by the sound – distant, but drawing nearer – of tinkling bells, and something that sounded suspiciously like the sound of horses' hooves.

"Pavel – it isn't… You didn't…"

"It is, and I did. You, my dearest love, are going on a sleigh ride."

"And we'll make snow angels?" Hikaru was grinning like a six-year-old; this was the most wonderful Christmas – _hell, the most wonderful anything_ – ever.

"We will make snow angels." Pavel was grinning as well, reflecting Hikaru's joy back to him.

"And, Hikaru…" Pavel's eyes were gleaming wickedly.

Now Hikaru was just a little suspicious. He had not forgotten that Pavel was Frighteningly Devious.

"Ummm… yes, Pavel?"

"You didn't happen to notice where the mistletoe has gotten to, did you?"

It was, in fact, no longer in Pavel's hair – but in the excitement of the snow, the sleigh, the angels – the general wonderfulness of everything, Hikaru hadn't kept track of the little sprig he'd detached from the plant.

He followed Pavel's eyes, now – downward to where he now saw the mistletoe festively fastened…

…into the buckle of his own belt.

"Pavel… out here? In the snow – seriously? What are you going to…"

"Absolutely, out here. Hikaru, my love, I am going to take you out behind one of these big, fluffy drifts, and you are going to learn the meaning of a…"

"Don't tell me. A… snow job?"

Pavel's laugh was wicked – and absolutely wonderful.

And Hikaru was lost – he knew it.

And he couldn't possibly care less. He leaned in for a quick, hard kiss as the snow fell around them.

"Merry Christmas, Pav."


	8. Snow by Ejectingthecore

_**This tasty gem is care of erotica extraordinaire Ejectingthecore…**_

_**The imagery in this one…well it did some things to me…Enjoy…Remember the rules…love on the author **_

_Nimoy Verse Spock and an anonymous lady from Specificity in…_

_**Snow**_

(This follows _Specificity_, but should stand alone as well.)

It's hot here. Not right for New Year's Eve.

I miss the snow of Earth, the northern coast of a northern continent, my home, a place for drifts and flakes of ice and dazzling reflectivity. The white blankness of pillows underfoot, the crispness of air. I close my eyes and pretend to breathe snow and whiteness and light, but I find my inner vision is no match for the boiling heat of this party, close and congested.

Women use their drinks. I watch how they ply them, at this party, an unlikely gathering to mark the new Earth year from a far-flung ship in space. Accepting drinks from men they want to touch, stroke, refusing them from men they don't, holding them at chest level--sometimes one arm folded, the other hand holding the glass--to form a barrier, a shield from an unwanted or boring suitor. Delicately sucking a stir stick is easily translatable.

This party seems ripe, a place of greenness on a boggy world. The sparkling brown of whiskey and water and ice and the clinking of glasses fly over the mire like a field of brilliant Ba'ku butterflies, flashing mating images on their spread wings. Pick me, pick me.

The man I have always wanted, the one whose long, rawboned fingers might hold a drink disdainfully, or carefully so as not to crush it, is not here. I wouldn't expect him to be.

I use my drink to hold off, alone. I don't want to be here, hot, crowded, with giddy people reaching for one another, lovers who seek one another out, who bring their bodies gracefully, or brashly, together. I thought after time passed the wound would close, but it has only gotten more raw. I recall his huge hand pressing into the small of my back, his thickness forcing me open, lovingly stroking me. My misery is complete and wasted. Why dwell on this, taste its sharp flavor on the rim of my sparkly drink?

A moment or two more, long enough to have been here, and I will go.

I've felt them only once, but I miss his strong, dry hands daily, miss them physically, a rush of tingling on my skin when I see him up close. Reports to deliver, I see him on the bridge and my heart stutters, unruly in my ribcage. His hands touch his instruments, hands I've seen touch himself, just centimeters from my needy mouth. I feel drawn, and I lock my boots, my feet, into the dirty bridge carpet to keep from drifting into his pull, a weakened, dying star.

When it's him in the captain's seat, I get too close. I used to notice his hands, touch my clipboard where he touched it, seek out every contact no matter how ridiculously indirect and minute. Now I breathe the scent of his skin, having been immersed in it for even a short time I connect the scent now with sliding bodies, pressure, his deepest alien voice, the voice that delivers harsh commands and purrs wicked ones. The scent, the voice, of dreams fulfilled. As I hand him paperwork, I flush and hide tears behind a mask of professionalism. I hide my eyes. I think I do. But he burns me, especially close like that.

His hips have branded me, and I'm his.

Then he is here. Across this impenetrable room. His deep and vital eyes are searching the party. I'm admittedly, helplessly looking at him, the muscles of his arms under blue fabric, the slight stoop of his lean, tall body. I'm looking. So when he finds me our eyes lock. His sparkle, and I'm destroyed like I was on the lift months ago, when he whispered, dusty velvet voice in my ear. _I see._ And I see him, now.

He moves with his usual feline aspect, and the crowd seems to part in deference to his grace. He prowls toward me, a straight trajectory, and I'm shocked, almost frozen, by the fact that his decisive walk is aimed toward me. If it were the first time, _when_ it was the first time, I incredulously and eagerly gave in to his advance. I did not anticipate, could not imagine, the open pain afterwards, the words, _You know I cannot do this again._ The agony of his wiping my tears, and at the same time offering no comfort.

His ravishing of me was complete, intense, fantastic, utterly coveted, and caustic, its limitations strict and final. Yet here he is, bearing down on me with a bewildering, hungry look. It seems he _may_ be able to do it all again. But I should not. I would be a fool. Have already been.

I quickly put my drink down and move away. I disappear into the crowd and make it to an exit, find myself breathing shallowly against the corridor wall. I begin, not to run but to stride with speed and purpose to my quarters. I'm focused. I nearly shriek when his hand encloses my upper arm. With momentum, my body swings around and he catches me in both hands, but at arm's length. He holds me and we still, for a brief moment he looks at me, then closes his eyes.

I left the party, ran away from him. Did something in my eyes say follow? It was the abandoned drink, a sign that I had seen him and I was slipping out. I should have noticed my own actions, their consequences, but I was too swept up in noticing him.

With his eyes still closed, he leans down in to my neck and the broken rocks of his seductive voice say, "I know. About the snow."

I don't pull away, could not pull away, as if heading toward a dark hole in the ship, though this is even more wrong than the fatal vacuum of space. So many of the details of my hottest, most effective dreams, the ones I secretly use below the sheets, are manifest in this moment. We're very close, could easily join our lips. I remember the unexpected softness of his mouth, how it's not rough with animal tongue. His taste comes back to me. I breathe in his scent, now utterly immersed in it, surrounding me, trapping me, but I yearn to be trapped.

I whisper back, and my voice is small. "What do you know about snow?"

He breathes words, rumbles into my neck. "That you crave it."

I spare only a half second to wonder how, _why_ he knows. He melts any thought with a press of his lips to my neck. He just presses them as he did the first time we touched. Then opens them, spreads them against my throat, before he pulls away. He pulls away so completely, I wonder if he is only teasing. He is alien, of a world and culture and species with entirely different worldviews, motivations, modes of operation, but I believe he would define this as cruel. And he would not be deliberately cruel.

He turns away and begins to walk briskly, says in his official tone, "Yeoman. Walk with me." He strides down the hall and I idiotically keep up with him, no match for his inhumanly long legs. He slips, riverine, through the corridor, moving his liquid hips away from the direction of my quarters. To the lift. In the direction of his.

I'm vulnerable, I have to know, need to feel his intentions. In the lift, I insinuate myself, inside his arms, against his chest, stand high on my toes and meet his satin lips with mine. His arms snap up and his speed and strength scare me into battle readiness, adrenaline racing, but he simply stops the lift, then gently wraps his arms around me. He wraps himself so far around me, his long arms crossing over my back, complete encirclement. He lifts me slightly, pushes me against the wall, our mouths never releasing.

When he opens his lips to me and I taste him, it's utterly familiar and exotically overwhelming and I welcome him in. He pulls back to breathe, but his hands lie flat on the wall on either side of my head, continuing to trap me. And I'm surprised by a papery, dark laugh, more rare than a blooming jasmine on a rocky moon. He gives a laugh to me, a rumbling sweetness, and there is nothing in any universe that can make me stop diving into him on this night.

Eyes full of devious promise he says, "Come." And starts the lift. We're quickly at his deck, and as the doors swish open he lifts me. I know he's strong, I've felt him contain it before, but it still shocks me when he picks me up as if I'm no heavier than a phaser on his sculpted hip. I throw my legs over his arm and he carries me, his rare and intoxicating smile fixing me the whole way. I am borne away by him, and I give in entirely. As if I could escape his gravity.

We enter his room. He has prepared for me, a nest on the floor, sumptuous pillows and blankets reminiscent of the bed of alien flowers and leaves where we last met. The beds on this ship are not made for love. This floor is. He lowers me gently to it, and kneels next to me and I savor his body heat, radiant with sex.

These soft pillows, they mean he planned to find me tonight, and it makes me shiver. He runs a single finger along the neckline of my dress, gently, barely lifting the fabric all along the edge, as if he's considering an interesting vine or loose wire. Then without regard or permission he rips the dress from me, all the way down and off, and I am lain before him in scant lace, only the panties I wore tonight, nothing more. He growls at the sight and dives for my clavicle and the wide heart shape of his mouth opens against my skin. He is hot and directed, but not crazed or animalistic. Possessive. And I whimper like a child as his lips travel to my breast and he takes it in with his whole mouth. Later, I don't know how much later, he releases my breast and lays his full weight onto me, crushing me with lust. His hips, the searing hips, the ones that hinge as he bends to repair a console, that move like water across the bridge, those hips so slim and powerful, grind into me and I cry out as if we're already climaxing. I may, even without any skin contact, I may.

He kneels between my legs and as he raises his shirt, reveals his sculpted, pale body, the lines of his ribs, the contours of his muscles, the soft secret of his skin in the dim light and shadows of his room. His hair is disarrayed by the removal of clothing and is thoroughly enchanting. My hands are drawn to him, and he sighs as I run them over his abdomen, fingers dipping into his waistband.

He removes my hands and places them on my own stomach, as if to tell me to stay, still. He slides back and down until his lips are just centimeters from my panties. He pulls the lace aside to place a finger on my wet lips, his alabaster fingers that I have slavered over, dreamt of plunging deep into my body. One does now, slides down and enters me. He adds his mouth and I luxuriate in the slippery kisses and licks, a thousand new stars igniting behind my closed eyelids. But after a moment, he stops, slides the length of his body up along mine, until he is aligned perfectly to move his hips into me again. This time I feel him hard and straining through pointless fabric and I push at his waistband and he rises to stand, take his boots off, and one at a time I watch their dusty solidity fall to the floor. He takes all his clothing off, deliberately slowly. And for the second time ever, I look up to adore his dream-like body, towering over me, confident, luminous in the half-light. His feet are sunk deep in white, his stance strong and tall, his arms held comfortably at his sides, his penis hard and delectable and only for me.

He kneels, and I get on my hands and knees and crawl the few steps to him. I open my mouth and bend to take him and as I bow over his erection my buttocks raise up and he places his hands on my hips, drawing me into him, filling my mouth. I choke slightly, basking in the feeling of breathlessness and saturation. Basking in the knowledge of how good I'm making him feel. I can hear the evidence in his breathy encouragement, his susurrations.

Before he can climax, I remove myself from him and lie back, slithering out of my panties and tossing them into the mass of sheets, and this time when his weight falls into me he enters me, a prolonged and sensual entering and filling and I open for him and his eyes sparkle and sweep me up, on the inside, though our corporeal bodies hold still. My voice is raw and weepy as I speak in his ear. "Please." And he rumbles that brief, amused laugh and begins moving into and out of me. And my body responds. I rock with him, rocking up to meet his thrusts, my face turning to breathe in his palm as he places his hand gently next to my temple, cradling my face.

We speed up, more urgent and fervid, wherever I touch him his body seems to glow, the sweet skin of his chest over my face, his face as he arches his back, bends to see my eyes. Our bed of pillows, rumpled white sheets tangling with our limbs, my skin against his whiteness. Insinuating, writhing, hips, thighs rubbing, nipples grazing, heat and speed and sensation rise until we both explode. Our cries peal out together, resound in his small room, and we fall into the whiteness of the bedclothes limp and in a cloud of bliss. He places his head on my chest, and I comfortably and sweetly brush his glossy hair with my fingers while our panting subsides.

After several such magical, silent moments his eyes raise to his desk. I follow his gaze and see it is nearly midnight. He husks out words into my ear. "I have something for you." He kneels to reach for something on his desk, right above us, and I have a clear and arresting view of the body that has just cherished, exalted, pounded me. I touch his penis, still partially hard, hold it gently and squeeze just enough to make him look down at me reprovingly. "Please let me proceed with what I am doing." I can't help but smile.

Then my thoughts return to the reality of where I am, with him, holding him, lazily stroking his hardening penis with my thumb. He's prowled, looked for me, calculated, prepared his room for me, lusted for me, wanted me and anticipated me. I can barely keep breathing, thinking of him wanting me. I cannot fathom his desire. I'm singularly fortunate in all the universe. And more so, he has something _for_ me.

Has he looked at my fair fingers, when I hand him reports, my nails trim and shining with clear polish? Has he imagined them holding him intimately, whispering over his skin, like I do now? Has he looked at my legs in my tall, leather boots, moving gracefully across the bridge to bring things to him, submit myself to him along with papers and data? I let him go, my hands immediately wishing to return to his heat, and I scan my memory for glimpses of him considering me when I visit the bridge, but I know he is completely in charge of his features, his aspect, and I will find nothing. Only by his admissions tonight. That's how I know.

He looks down at me again, in the near dark, and is grave when he tells me, "You must not tell a soul."

I nod, just as seriously, intrigued and somewhat frightened by the gravity of his demand. He presses a control on his desk. And out of the dark fly a thousand tiny pinpricks of light. Moving starlets light up the walls, falling, sparking against darkness, glinting like ice, like snow. The cascading lights fill the room completely and I'm immersed in a storm of white specks and dazzling points, falling, falling, swirling around me.

"I know it is not the same. But you miss something like this phenomenon."

I jump to my feet and stand nude and feeling resplendent in his eyes, in the dancing light. I twirl, even hold my palms out as if to catch the sparkles. Breathlessly, full of wonder, I tell him "Yes. I have wanted this."

He kneels up to grab me by my waist, his mouth against my stomach, and says as he bites into my skin, "Come to me." And I drop down to meet him in the bed of pillows and rolling hills of white blankets and we make love again, warm, in the snow.

_fin_


	9. MistletoeWhatNow? by Dr Spleenmeister

_**The Doc with a PhD in fun, the Spleenmeister brings us the next tale…**_

_Our favorite Science Officer in…_

_**Mistle-what-now?**_

Spock was a Starfleet science officer.

Being a Starfleet Science officer meant that he was an elite deducer of scientific, hard core, logically based, no-room-for-shenanigans facts.

Spock liked facts.

Spock didn't like shenanigans.

This meant that he was at a complete and utter loss as to what to do with the shenanigan-flavoured situation he currently found himself in.

He found himself leaning very slowly away from the female ensign who was standing in front of him, her entire weight hoisted up high onto her tip-toes as she waved a small plant over her head. Her proximity to him was not the problem, nor was her unorthodox stance. The problem was the highly-glossed pucker sitting smack dab in the middle of her face; the problem was that said pucker was coming straight for him.

With the sort of agility usually reserved for Suus Mahna, he dodged the lips as they passed through the space where his head had just been.

"Ensign, what _are_ you doing?"

The pucker became a pout that Spock was used to seeing on Nyota's face when he refused to take her 'dancing'. He shuddered inwardly; her idea of dancing was certainly not in line with his.

"It's Christmas, Sir."

Spock raised an eyebrow and fought the urge to roll his eyes as she stated the glaringly obvious.

"Yes, Ensign, I am aware of that fact."

The pout morphed into a sly smile and she waved the plant still clasped in her hand.

"Do you not know what this is, Sir?"

He tilted his head and eyed it briefly.

"It appears to be a sample of terran Santalaceae, a hemi-parasitic plant native to the European continent."

The sly smile widened.

"That's correct, Sir, do you know what this plant means?"

Innocently sensing an opportunity to flex his encyclopedic muscle, he drew himself up and launched into the many and varied used and references to the santalaceae plant. While he was absorbed in his task, he failed to notice the ensign slowly moving closer to him again. She cut him off just as he was getting into the use of the plant in earth paganism and druidism.

"Yes, yes, but do you know what it _is?_"

Spock blinked, returning his figurative encyclopedia to its shelf and looked down at her, noting how close she had become.

"I'm afraid I do not follow, Ensign."

"It's mistletoe."

Spock frowned, the alien, untranslatable word getting stuck in his mouth.

"Mistle... mistletosis?"

He started mouthing the word, trying to get it to sit right on his tongue, so preoccupied with getting it right that he did not notice her sag with disappointment. This was not the reaction she had been hoping for. How could he not know what mistletoe was? He was half human wasn't he? His mother was from Earth, surely she'd told him about it?

Watching him wrap his lips around the new words rather than wrapping them around hers, she suddenly became impatient and grabbed his shoulders to stop him. He immediately stopped miming and looked at her in surprise at her manhandling.

"This is what mistletoe is used for."

She pulled on his shoulders and planted her lips on his.

Then fell unconscious to the deck plating.

Spock removed his fingers from the junior officer's neck and blinked rapidly. That had been a most unorthodox way of making a point known.

Stepping over the prone body, Spock continued on his original path down the corridor towards Nyota's quarters, his pace quickening as he suddenly remembered that she had attached some of the same plant to the ceiling of her rooms.

This morning he had not known what it meant, now he fully intended to exploit it every chance he got.

It was a small mercy for tolerating this most irritating of terran holidays.

* * *

**_You know the deal, please show the author some love. Two more stories to go. I will not post again until Monday, because well I hate to see this end. So unless little elves drop off more. Next week will end this roaring good time. I hope all of you have enjoyed it. Thank you so much to all of the authors who took the time to share. Love you all :-)_**


	10. All I Want For Christmas by NerdieLady

_**This fabulous tale spun and created by the multi-talented Nerdielady **_

_Spock and Nyota in…_

_**All I Want for Christmas is You**_

It was the third Christmas on the Enterprise. Preparations for the annual Christmas party were well under way. The shuttle bay had been cleared and cleaned and a very large evergreen tree occupied one corner. There were garlands of evergreen boughs hung on all the walls. Tables had been lined up ready to receive all the goodies being prepared in the kitchens. Soon there would be many people here hanging decorations on the tree and boughs, adding balloons, streamers, setting up the sound system, busy and happy. Every year the party seemed to get a little bigger, a little better. The amateur talent show was now a well-loved tradition, although no one felt anything could ever beat the first year when Lieutenant Uhura had sung the Grinch song to Commander Spock. Unfortunately, no one had thought to record it. But every new crewman heard about it in great detail.

Crew members scurried about the ship, gathering items to help decorate with. Everyone wanted to contribute something. As spiking the punch was now a barely-kept secret, there were numerous volunteers to help with the 'preparation'. As well as distracting the captain at necessary intervals. Not that he tried very hard to see what was being done. So far there hadn't been any serious problem at the party - everyone was just having so much fun and enjoying the season so much that there weren't any incidents that needed security interference.

By 1600 on the day of the party, everything except the food was in place. The tables were covered with disposable tablecloths, printed with all sorts of seasonal scenes. This year there were even paper napkins and plates - something that someone down in stores had unearthed. No one had any idea where they had come from. Several people were busy setting them out on the tables, along with disposable forks. There didn't seem to be a need for other flatware. Now everybody cleared out - headed for their quarters to dress up, fix hair, and otherwise make themselves beautiful for the party.

*******

**  
**At exactly 1800, the doors to the turbo lift opened and the bridge crew stepped out. Cheers went up from the crowd gathered at the doors to the shuttle bay. Without anyone having to say anything, the crowd parted, leaving a path from the turbo lift to the closed doors. The bridge crew walked down that path, nodding and smiling at the crew members waiting - well, one of them did not smile, but his lips were quirked up at the corners. The Captain stopped in front of the closed doors, turned to the crew, and lifted his hands. Everyone got very quiet. The Captain turned back to the closed doors and made an exorbitant flourish with his hands. "Open sesame! Let the party begin!"

The doors swooshed open, giving access to the shuttle bay, full of the scent of evergreen, Christmas cookies, and punch. The bridge crew stepped through, then quickly to one side to avoid being trampled in the surge of people into the bay. In only a few moments, a surprisingly large percentage of the crew was in the shuttle bay, and more were streaming in almost continuously. The bridge crew worked themselves along the edge of the room, finally reaching their destination, between the huge tree and one of the refreshment tables. Christmas carols sounded from the speakers placed around the room, and people were wandering around, nibbling on cookies and admiring the decorations; time to join the line and find out what the kitchens had offered up this year.

Jim stood next to Bones, holding a small plate of goodies in one hand and cup of whiskey-flavored fruit punch in the other. Scotty had done his good deed again this year. Where he got his supplies, Jim didn't know and wasn't going to ask. Bones had a cookie in one hand and an almost empty punch cup in the other. Uhura stood a on the other side of Bones, relaxed, watching the people mingling on the floor, both hands cradling a punch cup. Spock was approaching, a small plate in his hands. Of course he didn't have a punch cup. Jim watched as Spock went directly to Uhura and stopped, raising the small plate that he carried and extending it to her. Oh, lover boy had brought goodies to his lady fair. How romantic. But that look on her face was distinctly odd, and so was what she was saying.

"You can't have that. You know better."

"Perhaps not all of it." Spock's face might be impassive, but there was something in his eyes. Jim wasn't quite sure what.

Uhura looked at Spock, tilting her head, watching him. She looked back down at the small plate. "This…" here she pointed at a large square of very dark chocolate fudge "is way too much, all on its own. That's dark chocolate."

Spock nodded slightly and seemed to sigh, just a bit. Jim was really curious now. He tilted his head towards Bones and spoke softly. "Do you have any idea what's going on over there? I mean, why would he need her permission to eat candy? Is it the sugar?"

Bones snorted. "It's the chocolate. Makes Vulcans drunk."

"A drunk Vulcan! WHOA!" he watched the two fellow officers, his jaw gaping slightly. "He's asking her permission to get drunk? SPOCK?"

"Sure looks that way to me. Not only that, but it looks like he's letting her decide how drunk." Bones shook his head.

Jim looked across the short distance to where his First Officer stood. He raised his voice only slightly, just enough to be heard over the general noise in the bay. "Hey, Spock, can't you decide for yourself what you want to eat?"

Spock did not so much as turn his face away from Nyota. "No." Only one word. Then he seemed to re-consider. "Not in this case." He stood there, the plate still in his outstretched hand. She would give him some of it, he was sure. She was still considering. Finally she reached out and broke off a small piece of the peppermint bark. She raised her hand toward his face and he opened his mouth. She laid the confection on his tongue and brushed his lower lip softly with her fingertips as her hand left his face. His eyelashes drifted slowly down as he savored the melting chocolate.

"More. Please."

"Not yet. That hasn't had a chance to hit your system yet." She took the plate away from him and held it herself, sitting it on top of her empty punch cup.

Jim watched in fascination. He could see small muscle movement in Spock's face as he sucked on the piece of peppermint bark. For some reason, his face looked softer than Jim could ever remember seeing it. He spoke softly to Bones once again. "Shouldn't you be taking notes or something? I mean, what an opportunity here."

Bones snorted as him. "Yeah, right. Durin' the party, I'm just goin' to whip out my tricorder and start takin' readings." He shook his head. "I do have a memory, Jim."

Spock was still watching Nyota, hoping that she would offer him another bite of the chocolate.

Instead, she asked him a question. "What did you have to eat today?"

He looked at her, his head tilted. "I did eat today, Nyota. I have consumed sufficient nutrients."

"You're avoiding the question."

He looked to the side for a moment, then back at her. "Are you testing my memory?"

"Maybe. Just answer the question."

"For first meal, I had a bowl of oatmeal...with raisins. The raisins, while not necessary, are pleasant to eat." Here Nyota carefully suppressed a giggle. "I also consumed two slices of whole wheat toast....with strawberry jam." His ears were becoming warm and he was sure they were turning green. Nyota was smirking at him now. He continued. "At mid-morning, the Captain called me into the ready room for a quick meeting and I drank a cup of tea....and ate a cheese danish."

"Wait a minute! Nobody told me there were cheese danishes in the ready room." Her eyes flashed at the captain, who studiously avoided her. Bones shrugged and took one step backwards, trying to remove himself from her glare. She looked back at Spock, but he was trying very hard not to look at her. "Okay, then what?"

"For second meal, I had a large salad of earth vegetables - lettuce, cabbage, red onions, bell peppers, radishes, jicama, pea pods,..." he paused. "There was another vegetable, I am sure of it, but I do not seem to be able to remember what it was." His brows drew together just a bit. "I should be able to remember that."

"Starting to get to you, isn't it? Sure you want more."

He looked at her, very plainly now. "Yes. I do want more." He lowered his voice. "Please, Nyota."

She considered, then broke off another small piece of the peppermint bark and placed it in his mouth, once again caressing his lips as she did. He sighed a very small sigh and his lashes fluttered down again, almost to his cheeks this time, as his tongue swirled over the melting confection. Small bursts of intense tart mint mingled with the creamy softness of the white chocolate. It was just as wonderful as it had been the first time he had tasted it, back at the Academy. His mind drifted off for a moment, remembering that night and what had happened. That night had been a turning point, his eyes had been opened. Now he opened his eyes again and looked down at the lovely woman standing before him. Would she like what he had planned? He would soon find out.

Over in front of the tree, they were setting up the sound system and the small platform used to raise the performers just enough that people not standing right in front of the tree could see their faces. The talent show would start in just a few moments. The captain walked over, standing ready to give his usual Christmas speech.

Jim stepped up on the platform, took the mike from the sound man, and addressed the crew. He made them laugh first, followed by a few things about fallen comrades and another year passing, and then came back with a joke to liven things up again. Then he passed the mike to the next person in line. People came and sang Christmas songs, some in groups, there were a few guitars and a flute, some poetry recited and then something totally unexpected happened. Spock walked forward and spoke to the sound man quietly. He flipped through the menu on his board, grinned, and cued up some music. Spock nodded and stepped up on the platform, retrieving something from his pocket and concealing it in his hand. He stood squarely in the middle of the platform, clasped his hands behind his back in that familiar pose, and began to sing in a pleasant baritone.

"The snow is falling its Christmas Eve  
Presents are wrapped under the tree  
is there one for me?  
I only want you for Christmas, baby  
I don't need nothing else  
I only want you for Christmas, baby  
Tie a ribbon 'round yourself  
Oh, tie a ribbon 'round yourself"

As he sang, Uhura drifted closer and closer to the small platform, until she stood directly in front of him.

"I ain't gonna write no letter Send north to the pole  
Cause what I'm wanting this year Saint Nick don't need to know  
I only want you for Christmas, baby  
I don't need nothing else  
I only want you for Christmas, baby  
Tie a ribbon 'round yourself  
Oh, tie a ribbon 'round yourself  
So put on your Christmas stockings I'll find that mistletoe  
Let's get into the holiday spirits  
And honey ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho"

At this point, he brought his hands out from behind his back and handed something to Uhura. She looked down at what he had handed her and laughed.

"I only want you for Christmas, baby  
I don't need nothing else  
I only want you for Christmas, baby  
Tie a ribbon 'round yourself  
I only want you for Christmas, baby  
I don't need nothing else  
I only want you for Christmas, baby  
Tie a ribbon 'round yourself"

As he sang the last chorus, she took the wide red ribbon he had handed her, unfolded it, wrapped it around her waist, and tied it in a big bow. The whole crew burst into applause. Spock stepped down from the platform and Nyota took his hand and lead him through the middle of the crowd and straight out the doors toward the turbo lift.

Jim heaved a big sigh. That was certainly a sight one did not see every day. Beside him, Bones was silent for a moment, then whipped his tricorder out of its holster and began dictating quickly. He wanted to be sure that he didn't forget any of the signs he had witnessed.

Nyota led Spock down the corridor to her quarters. She tapped the touch plate at the door and entered, pulling him along behind her. She set the small plate she still carried down on the table at the end of the couch. Spock's eyes followed her hand. "Later. Maybe. We'll see." She leaned against him; wound her arms around his neck. "That was so lovely. To think that you planned that all out, just for me. I think you have a big thank you coming."

Her eyes were shining, her face all soft and lovely.

His heart rate accelerated.

His temperature rose slightly.

She took his hand and led him into the sleeping area, turning him and pushing him gently down to sit on the edge of the bed. "Computer. Lights, 25 percent. Lock door. Com on alerts only."

That taken care of, she bent forward and gave him a soft kiss, just barely brushing his lips. Then she began to undress him, one garment at a time, lingering over it, teasing him. He sat there, anticipating, enjoying, and letting her do whatever she wished. The chocolate sang in his blood, making him feel all loose, uninhibited. When she had him down to his pants and briefs, she pulled him to his feet and swiftly pulled those off, as well. He grinned at her, reaching out.

"Uhn uh. Just wait."

She pushed him back down on the bed, making him scoot over to the middle, stretched him out on his back. She grinned wickedly at him, and then began to remove her own clothing. He watched, eyes shining, as she slowly peeled off her garments. She was deliberately teasing him, increasing his anticipation. He was happy to allow her. He did wish she would give him just one more piece of the chocolate.

"Nyota. Just one more."

"I don't really think you need it, ashayam. It will keep. After all, New Year's is just a week away."

He licked his lips. New Year's. Yes, he had forgotten that. He could wait then; unless he could convince her to give him some in between. He could be very persuasive. But for now, he had other things on his mind. And his body. Yes, she had all her clothing off now. That meant she would be coming to the bed very, very soon. And he was definitely ready, as she could obviously tell. She licked her lips, sliding her tongue across her lower lip slowly. His eyes followed her tongue. He would like to put his tongue there now. Why didn't she come closer?

Nyota knelt on the foot of the bed, between his feet. She picked up one foot and began to rub it, softly. She kneaded and rubbed his entire foot, until all the muscles relaxed. That felt so good. Then she turned his foot and kissed the bottom of his arch, her lips soft and cool against his skin. A fire bloomed there, spreading slowly outwards as she continued to press her soft cool lips against his skin. And then she stopped and laid his foot down. He gave a small sound of disappointment. But then she picked up the other foot and repeated her actions. Now he had two spots of fire. He panted, just the tiniest bit. Her cool fingers encircled his ankles, stroked up his legs, kneading the muscles in his calves. She bent her head and began to kiss his legs, first the right, then the left, starting at his insteps and working her way up; a kiss here, a tiny nip of her teeth there, a slow lick with her tongue. Now both of his legs were on fire. He lay there, trying not to move, reveling in the sensations she was causing.

She bent her head and swiveled his leg slightly with her hand, exposing the underside of his knee to her mouth. At some point, she had loosened her hair and it hung softly about her, swaying with her movements. When she bent so low and kissed his other knee, her hair swept over his thighs, causing the skin to tingle and burn. Ah, that was so good. She continued on up his thighs, lips and hands caressing, building the fire higher. Then she stopped, moved out from between his legs. Where was she going?

"Nyota, k'diwa, come back."

"Hush, ashayam, I'm not going anywhere, just moving. See."

Now she was higher up on the bed, kneeling beside his body, leaning over, hands on either side of his head. She bent down and brushed his face with her mouth, softly, softly, lips teasing his skin. She lingered over his temples, licked softly up the sweep of his eyebrows; gently bit the hard plane of bone just in front of his ears. He moaned beneath her. Her tongue swirled gently in one ear, then he felt her teeth, biting gently along the outer edge of his ear, moving upwards toward the tip, then closing her mouth completely around that sensitive tip, sucking. Ah, yes. A low growl from his throat, a soft, happy sound from hers. She moved across his face to the other ear, assaulting it as she had the first. He was practically delirious with joy now, flame burning brightly along all his nerves. His lok twitched and jerked as she touched him, ready for her.  
She moved her attention to his neck, kissing him under the edge of his chin, where the skin was very sensitive, biting him gently on the side of his neck, down from his earlobe to the curve of his shoulder, harder there, hard enough to make him bow up from the bed, just a little, growling louder. She moaned at him, his arousal affecting her now. He could smell her. His nostrils flared, sucking her in. Yes, yes, k'diwa, I do smell you.

She settled back on her heels and took the hand closest to her in hers. Starting at his shoulder, she touched and tasted every centimeter of his skin, working her way slowly down his arm until she reached his hand. She turned his hand over in hers until it laid there, palm up. She buried her face in his hand, breathing on his skin, then brushed her soft lips over each of his fingers, from palm to tip, her tongue lapping at the sensitive fingertips, setting them all ablaze. He writhed upon the bed, whole body ablaze, mind burning, wanting her, loving her. She reached over and drew up his other hand, repeating her actions there. Now she held both hands, going from one to the other, tickling, licking, tiny, tiny nips. He was burning, burning, growling at her, his lok straining, engorged, and hot.

She spread his arms apart, holding his wrists with her hands, until they lay upon the bed. She moved her body then, one knee sliding across his thighs, until she was poised above him. She leaned over, her breasts almost brushing his chest, her face above his.

"What do you need, Spock?" A soft, low whisper, her voice so intoxicating.

"Only you, Nyota, k'diwa, only you."

Her lips descending, found his as her body opened, enclosed him. He trembled, control almost gone. She moved, sliding, friction against his hot skin, wetness, cool wetness against his burning. And now she opened up the link between them, wide, and he fell into her, losing himself completely. The white-hot fire rose up around them, in them, blazing, melting, fusing, and they were one with it.

In one tiny, tiny corner of his being, his analytical mind recognized the fact that she had been correct. The amount of chocolate she had given him had been exactly right. Somehow she always knew what was right for him. He was extremely pleased. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her down against him, snuggling her head against his neck, feeling her soft breath against his skin.

How could he possibly want anything more?

* * *

**_Finish my sentence..._**

**_That's right, show your author some appreciation_**


	11. Of Hypos and Mistletoe SouthernScribe

_The final entry in this lovely gift is from moi. Again I would like to thank everyone who had a hand in the collaboration. A special thank you to all the readers and reviewers out there as well. _

* * *

_Nyota Uhura and Leonard McCoy in:_

_**Of Hypos and Mistletoe**_

"Keep your pants on what's the medical emergency?"

Leonard McCoy breezed through the doors of the transporter room, hypo in hand, brows furrowed over his glasses, and two day old stubble gracing his face. More confusion registered on that handsome face once he spotted the Chief Communications Officer and Scotty were the only ones present in the room. Nyota was infectious with a sideways Santa hat on top of her head and candy cane earrings dangling from her ears. An earlier twentieth century holiday tune was playing from the speakers strategically placed on Scotty's console. The men singing had pitch perfect harmony and were singing about letting it snow and spending a quiet evening by the fire. Was everyone on this ship except the chief medical professional suffering from a case of Christmas joy to the umpteenth power?

"Bones, remember when you promised that whatever I needed, I just had to ask." Nyota was batting her eyelashes and speaking softly.

"Darling that's a loaded gun pointed at my head and I refuse to acknowledge that I ever made that statement." McCoy's temperature was rising and he was pretty sure, the woman could get the world on a silver platter if she just asked.

Nyota moved in closer to her friend and colleague, placing one warm hand on his shoulder and the other in the center of his chest. She was attempting to keep the remainder of their conversation private. "I need a huge favor Leo." She noticed he bristled under the nickname that was her creation. Everyone else on board referred to him as Bones, McCoy, or Doc but Nyota always lowered her lashes, softened her face, and purred Leo to get her way with the gentleman.

The scent of mint filled the air as he exhaled the breath he'd been holding, "What do you need from me doll face?"

"I've got a lock on them Lieutenant, should I beam them up?" Scotty interrupted the quiet moment between the two friends.

"Do what you do Mr. Scott." McCoy answered before Nyota could manage a word.

Scotty laughed and began the process of energizing two life forms. "This is going to be exciting."

As soon as the older couple was visible, Nyota pressed her lips forcefully to McCoy's. The man protested but eventually relaxed in her grasp, sliding comfortably into the embrace and semi-passionate kiss.

Nyota pulled back, planting another peck on his cheek, while whispering, "I kind of told my parents you were my boyfriend."

"You did what?" Nyota silenced any further outbursts from the doctor with another kiss. Forgetting where he was and what he held, McCoy mistakenly leveled the hypo to her arm during their ill fated moment of affection. Nyota collapsed against his chest in response to the sedative contained in the hypo spray.

McCoy managed to keep Nyota upright as her parents looked on in disbelief. "Scotty please alert medical." The man laughed nervously, "I guess my lips are a deadly weapon." Still nervous, he shoved the hypo in his pocket out of the sight of the lieutenant's concerned parents.

The doctor saw where Nyota got her good looks, calling Mrs. Uhura beautiful would have been an understatement, with the same silky black hair as Nyota, only with a few streaks of gray and a similar skin coloring, he was glad his father wasn't present so there would be nothing said to cause him embarrassment or physical injury at the hands of Mr. Uhura. Nyota's father was tall, lean, and looked a bit scary at the moment as he wondered exactly what this man had done to his daughter. In a desperate need to remove himself from the awkward situation, McCoy scooped Nyota up in his arms and headed for the doors of the transporter room. He heard a huff and a sigh behind him and figured that they belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Uhura respectively. As they paced down the corridor to sickbay, the scent of jasmine and lavender danced around his nostrils. McCoy rested his head against Nyota's during the journey, if he was lucky, her scent would linger on his clothes and he'd have a reminder that she had been in his arms.

Nyota regained consciousness an hour later.

"What was in that? I swear fur grew on my chest." Nyota looked down the front of her dress to confirm that only baby soft skin was there and no hair was present.

"Enough sedative to take down an army of elephants, I thought our dimwit of a Captain had caused trouble again. He's becoming immune to a normal dose of sedatives."

An easy grin broke out across Nyota's face and McCoy did his best to ignore that warm tug around his heart.

"Where's my parents."

"They're touring the ship with the First Hobgoblin of course."

A small flicker of regret crossed Nyota's eyes, "Great just what I need. What did you do to ruin that relationship Ta?" Nyota did her best impression of her father.

"Speaking of relationships, what about this imaginary one going on between the two of us?"

McCoy helped Nyota sit up against the pillows on the couch in his office. For the first time she noticed her boots had been removed and she'd been covered by a warm quilt that smelled like mint and vanilla. Her fingers traced the different patterns in each square. It reminded her of something her Baba would make. Internally Nyota wondered if McCoy would miss it, should it disappear to her quarters.

"Well, my dad was going on and on about Mr. Spock and the fact that I needed to apologize and try to rebuild that relationship."

"Is he aware that he has coal for a heart and lives in a cave with a dog that he puts stick antlers on before going to Who Ville to steal Christmas from everyone?" Laughter reached the doctor's eyes, "Just kidding."

Leonard McCoy was doing it again. Making her forget what she was about to say. Wanting to curl against his chest and listen to witty and asinine comments made about their friends and crew. They had sat on the observation deck a few nights before watching an animated feature of _The Grinch that Stole Christmas. _Spock had been referred to as the Grinch from that night forward.

"I could have asked Jim, but both my parents know I wouldn't be caught dead with a man like that, Sulu and Chekov are just getting off the ground, Scotty well, he's Scotty, and you're more my type."

The doctor's eyes brightened, "Why settle for the rest when you can have the best."

"Now you sound like Jim."

McCoy pulled back the quilt and eased each of Nyota's legs into her boots before zipping them up.

"I didn't know they were coming for Christmas until this morning. I understand if you don't feel comfortable doing this."

The doors to Dr. McCoy's office swished open revealing Nurse Chapel followed by Mr. and Mrs. Uhura. Without thinking McCoy brushed a stray hair from Nyota's eyes, his hand lingered, caressing her cheek, and eventually traveling down to take one of her hands in his. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze that she returned.

"Mom and Dad, this is Leo."

Nurse Chapel smirked as she left the doctor's office mumbling a quick, "Mmm…mmm…mmm." In response to the scene in Leonard's office.

Mr. Uhura extended his hand towards the doctor, "Simon Uhura and this is my wife Amina."

Dr. McCoy accepted the hand before him, giving it a strong and confident shake, before taking Amina's hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back side.

A simple "Humph." Followed from Mr. Uhura.

"It is a pleasure to meet you both. Happy holidays to you." McCoy was gripping Nyota's hand again looking for a sign of what move to make next.

"Mama…Papa I'll take you to my quarters. Leo will come by after his shift." Nyota nodded her head at McCoy before joining her parents.

"Sure darling. I'll see you later." It was an act that came too easy. Nyota leaned up and brushed his cheek with her lips.

"Shave before I see you again." She whispered into his ear.

Amina Uhura smiled at their exchange.

"Whatever you want gorgeous."

*******

"Ta you never told me he was so handsome?"

Nyota looked up from her PADD to her mother and back down to the device in her lap.

"Oh stop it mama."

"I like him. I would venture to say he's a better fit than Spock. This Dr. McCoy is reserved, but there's something about the way he touches you. His eyes, there's so much emotion there when he looks at you. When you fainted in the transporter room, two seconds, and he had you in his arms and out the door."

Nyota looked at her mother again, "How did he look at me?"

"Like a man in love."

Nyota felt light headed and dizzy in response to her mother's observation.

McCoy arrived at her quarters an hour after his shift in sick bay ended. She had programmed the door to open automatically upon his arrival. The doctor did the best he could to mask the surprise at the door recognizing his DNA signature and allowing him entrance.

It was Leonard McCoy. That's what Nyota kept telling herself. The man that gave her regular check ups and cleared her for active duty. He could describe her tonsils in great detail. He knew how to fix the perfect gin and tonic. He had a way with words and at this moment his jeans hugged his ass perfectly, "Shit."

"Ta watch your mouth." Her mother hissed in response to her use of an explicative. Nyota had burned her hand in the process of pouring the warm water from the kettle. She sat the tray containing tea on the table in front of the couch where her father sat giving McCoy the once over. Nyota's mother motioned for her to return to the bedroom while the men talked before they headed to the Captain's quarters for a pre holiday meal.

Simon Uhura waited until the women were out of sight and out of ear shot before retrieving an antique flask from his coat pocket. He pointed towards the bar and the doctor immediately retrieved two small shot glasses. Mr. Uhura prepared a drink for them both, slamming back his shot first and watching as Leonard winced as the whiskey burned on the way down.

"Do you like it Mr. McCoy, it's my own brew."

The doctor nodded, noting the burn that lingered in his chest.

"Cayenne, I put a little pepper in there, makes it hurt so good." The man laughed at his own play on words and McCoy finally regained his ability to speak in time enough to take another shot.

"It's great, sir." His voice was raspy and he did his best to maintain his manhood in spite of the pain in his throat and the tears welling in his eyes.

When Nyota and McCoy arrived at the Captain's quarters with her parents, Jim and Spock did their best to camouflage the expression of confusion on their face as they watched the new couple enter arms laced around each other's waists.

Nyota looked at Jim pleadingly, hoping that he would not make a comment to shoot the façade to hell in a hand basket. Spock positioned another chair at the table for the doctor directly beside Nyota's place. He watched the interaction between the two, often raising an eyebrow to one of her breathy laughs in response to the doctor's off handed comments.

"It's a shame you're a vegetarian Mr. Spock, the chicken and saffron sauce is a perfect combination." Simon Uhura said in an attempt to draw the half Vulcan's attention from Nyota and her date.

Once everyone had completed the main course, Nyota stood to clear the table. Amina Uhura and the Captain were engaged in a conversation about the ship's Holiday party on the following evening, as well as, the gag gifts he'd purchased for most of his senior staff. While clearing the dishes and loading them into the cleaning receptacle Nyota felt a familiar presence enter the kitchen.

"I was not aware of a relationship between you and Dr. McCoy."

Nyota's eyes fell towards the door, "Keep your voice down. I'm doing this entirely for the benefit of my father."

"Nyota, did it ever occur to you to take the honest approach?"

Spock meant well with his logical assessment but Nyota needed to remind him who they were discussing, "This is Simon Uhura; former military police officer who interrogated you for nearly twenty four hours when you first met because he didn't like the look of your eyebrows."

There it was the corners of his lips turning upwards with the recollection, "Thank you for refreshing my memory." Spock paused, "If I may be blunt, I do believe that you should explore your friendship with Dr. McCoy. There is an easy chemistry between you. It brings me much relief to see light in your eyes again."

Simon Uhura's voice drifted into the kitchen filling the silence that had fallen between Spock and Nyota, "So Doctor McCoy share with us when you first fell in love with my little girl."

Nyota gasped.

"Yeah Bones, tell us when you fell for the lovely linguist." Sarcasm was dripping from the Captain's voice and Nyota made a move for the door until she heard Leonard speaking.

"I don't even have to think about that, the first time I saw her. She handed me a barf bag before I threw up on this idiot's feet." McCoy pointed at Jim who was now anxiously waiting for his friend's next words. "She talked to me about every bone common in most humanoid species. She taught me the basic Romulan alphabet, and when all of that failed to take my mind of the fact we were in the air and not on the ground, she made me tell her stories about my favorite subject in the world, my daughter."

Nyota was speechless. McCoy had recalled their first meeting perfectly.

"Your daughter has a special gift for reaching a person's soul."

Spock and Nyota exited the kitchen in time enough to see a proud smile resting on Simon Uhura's face. "Good answer Dr. McCoy."

The remainder of the evening was pleasant. Dessert was shared. Simon Uhura tried to peddle more peppered whiskey off on the men present.

McCoy escorted Nyota and her parents back to their quarters once the visit with the Captain had ended.

"Thanks Leo." Nyota offered before disappearing behind the doors.

Christmas Eve was the following day and the ship was buzzing with excitement and energy. There were cookies, fudge, and cakes in every department aboard. The entire crew was looking forward to the celebration that evening. An opportunity to share cultural experiences was how the Captain had it billed.

People filed into the observation deck as their shifts ended. The Uhuras were present along with other crew members' family. Sulu's sister and her two kids were on board. Sarek had joined Spock in honor of Amanda's fondness of the holiday.

McCoy followed the sound of Simon Uhura's voice to the table where Nyota was seated with her parents. He fell into comfortable conversation with Mr. Uhura. The lights dimmed in the room and the music slowly changed to a rhythmic melody. The voice that followed was beautiful and immediately grabbed his attention from Simon Uhura. It was Nyota, singing a famous holiday standard with a small band, including the first officer backing her. She was in her own world on that stage and for the moment he was part of it. The crowd erupted into thunderous applauds once the song had ended. Simon took his wife's hand and moved towards the dance floor.

Nyota and McCoy stood watching each other for a clue on what to do next. Eager crew members, rushing to new trays of appetizers, forced them together into a half hug.

"May I have this dance?" The doctor asked with a half smile resting on his lips.

Right there without taking strides to a floor that was already overcrowded, the two souls shared a simple dance. As the tune ended and Christine Chapel always the trouble maker stood behind Nyota with mistletoe held high above their heads, the doctor and linguist did what only came naturally.

"Merry Christmas…" McCoy whispered against her lips.

"What are you doing New Years Eve?" Nyota said resting her forehead against his.

"Aah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same?" He felt her shudder after kissing the top of her head.

She smiled catching his intent, "Maybe it's too early in the game."

"Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight." He tightened their embrace as he continued speaking, "When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night."

"Maybe I'm crazy to suppose." Nyota rested her head on his shoulder. "I'd ever be the one you chose."

McCoy pulled back from their second dance, "Aah, but in case I stand one little chance. Here comes the jackpot question in advance: What are you doing New Year's Eve?"

"This." Nyota responded before softly kissing the doctor's lips.

* * *

_**A/N – I don't own the lyrics to 'What Are You Doing New Year's Eve' but Ella Fitzgerald and her wonderful voice, bring happy holiday times.**_


End file.
